


Take Off Your Colours

by Coraleeveritas



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, Fluff, Theatre
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2015-04-02
Packaged: 2018-01-05 15:09:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1095459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Coraleeveritas/pseuds/Coraleeveritas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When young actress Brienne Tarth inadvertently spends press night for <i>The Wolves of Winter</i> arguing with top theatre critic Jaime Lannister, neither of them realised what exactly it would lead to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elfogadunk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elfogadunk/gifts).



> It feels like a very long time indeed since I've posted anything new, but since this particular story is now about half way finished I thought I'd start posting. This is based around elfogadunk's fabulous gif prompt on Tumblr (http://elfogadunk.tumblr.com/post/65662212476/j-b-au-where-jaime-lannister-finds-himself) so expect the rating to rise with future chapters. I can only hope I've managed to do the original prompt justice.
> 
> Big thanks to RoseHeart for taking the time to read, comment, proof and generally be awesome throughout my very slow writing process.
> 
> Nothing belongs to me as usual, all characters, places etc. belong to GRRM and the title is borrowed from a YouMeAtSix album.

The slate grey curtain made an excruciatingly slow ascent from the stage to the gods, as if struggling under its own vast weight, reluctantly revealing the small company of actors to an audience ready and eager to show their appreciation. Applause hit the newest member of The Wolves of Winter like a welcome wall of sound as soon as the velvet swept past her head, the unmistakable noise of a sold-out theatre rising to its feet filling Brienne Tarth with a joy that had yet to be duplicated. She understood that it wasn't for her, an invading Amazon Queen with a face hidden behind freckles and feathers, rather more likely it was directed at the hometown hero, and visiting television star, Robb Stark. But still, Brienne closed her eyes for a second and let the energy wash over her, ebbing and flowing like familiar rolling ocean tides.  
   
The noise pushed the line into one last bow, allowing Brienne a glance out into the auditorium, though every applauding figure would remain cloaked in shadows until the curtain made its final journey of the evening. Unlike many of the cast, she rarely had a friend or family member in the audience, so instead of searching out loved ones at the end of a performance, Brienne had contented herself with learning all of the features which made The Fell Theatre unique. Her favourite having quickly become the way the light seemed to play tricks with her eyes, bouncing off gilded edges to offer a different kaleidoscope of colour every night. Though it was the glint of emerald green coming from the second or third row that Brienne chose to focus her attention on as a smile spread and attempted to elevate her features from plain into something more appealing, feeling the colour follow her around the stage despite realising she was imagining an impossibility.   
   
A harsh sunset stole a kiss over her covered skin as her co-stars pushed Brienne centre stage to take a share of the spotlight, none sensing how unsure of the scrutiny she was now that there was no character to hide behind. Her carefully watched movement was more bob than bow, but even that seemed to warrant the distinctly masculine whistle that cut through the air and warmed Brienne from head to toe with angrily confused embarrassment. High school wasn't so long ago that she'd forgotten the way mocking sounded in her ears, a multitude of all too easy jokes at the expense of her unusual height and build, though Brienne found the strength to blink the echoes of pain away and left Robb to mop up the remainder of the screams and shouts.  
   
She took and held a breath as the curtain was lowered, setting her face in a pleasantly stony mask as if daring the whistler into a second attempt at getting past her armoured defences, so singularly focused that Brienne didn't notice the red haired wardrobe assistant until Sansa was almost on top of her.  
   
"Your Grace", the younger Stark giggled as she offered Brienne a far more refined bow than the actress had attempted on stage moments earlier. "In between stealing scenes did you manage to see who's here yet again tonight?"  
   
Brienne took a look over her shoulder, wondering what she was missing now the velvet shield hid the departing audience from view. "I don't really have a lot of time to pay attention to what's going on out there."  
   
"Third row centre", Sansa started as she eased the mask off Brienne's face, careful not to smudge any of the kohl she had painstakingly lined her friend's dark blue eyes with. _No_ , Brienne thought, a little ahead of the conversation for once, as the sudden stutter of her heart acted as a reminder of the only person she'd ever met with eyes the exact same shade of green that had caught her unawares earlier. _He wouldn't. He told me... he wouldn't._  
   
"Hotter than all of the seven hells combined", Sansa continued, curling strands of Brienne's blonde hair around her fingers as if that would keep the gentle waves in place a little longer. "Wrote that piece in The Times where he called you..."  
   
"You know I don't like reading reviews. If you believe the good ones..."  
   
"Then you have to believe the bad ones." Sansa rolled her eyes fondly, seasoning her next request with a pleading tone as if the handsome reporter's multiple appearances were a plot from one of her favourite romance novels, the same stories Brienne sometimes flicked through when it seemed like there wasn't any good left in the world and a fairy tale appealed to her wandering mind. "If you really don't want to break your silly superstition then just let me read you the best parts. Please?"  
   
Brienne swallowed hard, giving herself a little more time to think, since it wouldn't be difficult to work out what he must have written without being told. Jaime Lannister, The Times' top theatre critic and scourge of Kings and Queens alike, had murmured half drunk and overly suggestive insults in her ear several weeks earlier, the touch of his warm breath sending shivers down her spine in a way she hadn't quite forgotten. He knew he was gorgeous and every smile, every accidental touch, every word had been so loaded Brienne hadn't been sure where to look never mind how to properly respond.

Thanks, San, but that won't be necessary." Her friend wouldn't be cruel enough to quote anything Jaime found funny verbatim; although Sansa's general excitement over even the possibility of a hint of romance wasn't out of character.   
   
Sansa tutted, sounding a little too like her stage manager mother for comfort, though the sigh that followed was the epitome of an exasperated teenager. "I really think Jaime might like you. And since rumour has it that you spent at least twenty minutes curled up with him on press night, could you maybe _like_ him a little too?"  
   
"Don't be ridiculous." Brienne's reply was automatic, an ingrained coping mechanism from years of suffering at the hands of unrequited love. Although that didn't mean she had forgotten a single second of their heated half hour discussion, focusing on authenticity on stage, before Jaime had inched closer in order to insult her a little more intimately. If it hadn't begun so harmlessly, fencing and swords and armour, then Brienne would not have engaged long enough to witness the sinking turn into blunt personal questions about kissing and public nudity. Jaime was surprisingly shameless, though the alcohol may have been loosening his tongue a little, appearing to be briefly transfixed by her naturally modest reactions.   
   
Sansa giggled as the same scarlet heat ambushed Brienne's freckles in another battle they would never win, the redhead seeing what she wanted to find in the memory of embarrassment, her pretty laugh sounding like the chirp of a little bird. "Tell that to the usher he's been harassing for the past few nights. Wouldn't it be _wonderful_ if it's not just the play that has Jaime coming back for more?"  
   
"He might be writing a piece on..." Sansa smiled sweetly while Brienne searched for an explanation that was a little more plausible than what her friend's romantic mind was offering, though there was a reason why she had only scraped a pass in her improvisation classes at drama school. "Upcoming writers or families in the business or..."  
   
"Something more suited for bedtime reading?" Sansa at least had the good grace to flush softly as she borrowed words that had clearly originated from the filthy mind of the company's head of wardrobe, Myranda Royce. Brienne felt like her eyes were becoming as wide as saucers as she attempted to shoot her friend an incredulous look, head beginning to spin from the wave after wave of blood rushing to her cheeks.   
   
"Guys like that..." Brienne started firmly, "Like _Jaime Lannister_ , have been messing with me for years and all that time I've been knocking them away without a second thought." It wasn’t quite a lie, but she may have been stretching the truth just a little. Her dreams had taken on a distinctive green hue of late, making her feel like she had fallen down a very strange rabbit hole only to end up lost in an emerald city.  
   
"You know I'm never going to understand how you can be so fantastic out there", Sansa gestured wildly, "But take one step off the stage and you revert back to defensive and awkward in seconds."  
   
Brienne opened her mouth to protest that 'defensive' was the last thing she was being; her life was full of encounters that seemed to prove how much attractive jerks enjoyed tormenting girls like her, no matter how talented they were on paper or stage, but Sansa quickly waved her off.  
   
"I promise I'm only living vicariously through you until I get accepted into any decent design school. But would you promise me, as a friend, if Jaime does show up tomorrow night that you'll at least consider talking to him."  
   
"I'll... consider it."  
   
"Thank you", Sansa whispered, half in prayer as if a very important wish had been granted. "And since you still don't think anyone wants you to see you at the stage door”, the words were punctuated by another sweet eye roll, “I guess we should get you out of that costume before you miss your train home."  
   
Almost on cue, Brienne yawned. They were already in pre-rehearsal for The Fell's next production and that meant a fourteen hour working day was a minimum requirement so, she was happy to follow the younger girl further backstage if it allowed her to fall into bed sooner. Brienne was hoping for a dreamless sleep, something free from the kind of emotion which left her feeling drained rather than rested, though it wouldn't be long before she realised the winter night had other plans.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And as the searching lights moved through their illuminating spectrum of colour, Jaime could have sworn there was a moment where strength overpowered beauty in a battle that pulled him into retracing his steps many times over. He would never want to admit it to anyone, least of all himself, but there was something about Brienne Tarth that was utterly fascinating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has read, commented and left kudos on this! I'm slightly overwhelmed by the completely lovely reaction and can only hope that subsequent chapters are just as enjoyable :)
> 
> Thanks to my wonderful beta RoseHeart for her suggestions and finding me an appropriate stopping point.
> 
> There are a couple of modified lines taken from ASOS in here, you'll know them when you get to that point.

The wall behind him was practically dripping with ice, the comfort of the past couple of hours inside contrasting beautifully with the snowy crust that had been allowed to settle on the steps of the theatre like misplaced grains of sugar. Waiting for a cab, Jaime grumbled as he finally conceded to the wind chill and buttoned his coat a little tighter, the cold beginning to seep into his bones and causing a feeling of middle age he didn't much appreciate. 

Blowing warm air into his cupped hands and wishing he still smoked, if only to let him kill a little time, Jaime's eyes were drawn to the giggling mass of teenage girls circling the stage door like the least impressive hunting pack he'd ever seen. The Wolves of Winter had been virtually sold out since the cast had been announced some months earlier, appealing to the kind of market who didn't usually spend time or money in the theatre district, though Jaime had a number of contacts who could find him a seat even on a last minute basis. 

His first visit to The Fell Theatre a few weeks back had been strictly for business, the corresponding, though slightly inebriated, write up of the show ticking the kind of concise and complimentary boxes his editor liked, pulling particular attention to the story’s fatal honourable nature of The Young Wolf and the eventual betrayal of his second in command.  
   
Though, after Jaime realised it was one of the few productions he'd been called to critique that warranted a viewing for pleasure, it was the warrior Queen that kept catching his eye. It was the role that his step-sister, and the only woman he had ever truly loved, auditioned for, even though the part called for a much younger woman. Jaime could only picture the look on Cersei's face if she found out where he was spending his evenings, but their relationship was currently strained enough to not want to be in the same room as each other, allowing him to almost forget how much time had passed since they'd fucked, never mind talked, and keeping this secret was nothing compared to the ones she had kept. 

Even with that in mind, not allowing himself to linger on the unfamiliar feeling of finding something he didn't want to share with Cersei, there was a strange sense that he was doing something wrong every time he thought about the intriguing Amazon and the two blunt winter worlds she straddled. Not that it happened often, but every now and again Jaime caught himself looking at other women; on the train, in the street, at the office, finding pale skin and freckles and blue eyes but never seeing anything recognisable to hold his attention longer than half a heartbeat.  
   
And, without fail, Brienne Tarth held his attention.   
   
It hadn't taken Jaime long to realise that she was almost the polar opposite of his beautiful, though typecast, lover, a force to be reckoned with in character but ruled by anxiety and awkwardness once the curtain fell. Brienne proudly stood a head taller than the rest of the cast on stage, height never being something Jaime had paid much attention to before, though it had become another feature he was now noticing in the women around him, self-consciously folding in on herself after their press night bickering took them from bar to booth.   
   
Although close up it was difficult to tell through her blushes, colour travelling up her neck in a way that had Jaime reaching for his glass in order to find anything else to focus on as soon as he was caught staring, Brienne was in possession of such star quality that kept the audience enthralled simply by the passion behind her words. He forget to pay attention when she wasn't talking or laughing or crying since the whole story became a little more contrived, though no less visceral or heart-breaking, once the ending had been seen and digested. 

And as the searching lights moved through their illuminating spectrum of colour, Jaime could have sworn there was a moment where strength overpowered beauty in a battle that pulled him into retracing his steps many times over. He would never want to admit it to anyone, least of all himself, but there was something about Brienne Tarth that was utterly fascinating.  
   
The chattering of the girls rose in pitch as the stage door opened, wrenching Jaime out of revisiting the past, and two of the show's stars rushed out to greet the over-excited fans. He rolled his eyes, seeing nothing new in the adoration and surprising himself at the wave of disappointment which followed the sudden realisation that the Amazon wouldn't be making an appearance. He quickly turned away from the sounds of youthful exhalation that were setting his nerves on edge, hoping the normally reliable cab company would see fit to turn up before he froze to death, only to walk straight into the path of what must have been the very last person to leave the theatre.   
   
It would have been easy to assume that the broad figure wrapped up against the elements was male, but after a soft mumbling apology became a step in the awkward shuffle they'd unwittingly engaged in, Jaime realised that would have been a mistake. Brienne lifted her head momentarily, blinking almost coyly through sooty lashes which framed truly astonishing eyes, before she chewed at her weather chapped lower lip and tried to anticipate his next move. 

The narrow path left little room to allow theatre goers and pedestrians to pass each other comfortably, the ancient wall on one side and steady stream of traffic on the other restricting them even further. Jaime felt a smile tug at his own lips as Brienne only succeeded in matching him, step and slide, step and stop, falling into a dance that appeared to be causing more than a little flustered frustration. Her reactions almost, but not quite, providing Jaime with more enjoyment than hearing her stumble over innuendo laden descriptions of the various adult themes within the play.   
   
"I know you're new to this, but did no one tell you that actors are supposed to leave via the _stage_ door?" He asked in lieu of a greeting, smile becoming a grin as Brienne swore under her breath in clear recognition, pulling herself up to meet laughing green eyes with an ocean of sapphire blue.  
   
"It must have been the same person who forgot to tell you that each play only has one press night." Brienne fell over her words as she and Jaime shuffled and spun in another perfect circle, the slowly forming ice under their feet bringing them a little closer with each passing second. He was verging on impressed by her retort, although it only took a raised eyebrow to send Brienne mentally scurrying back to a quieter place. 

_A shame_ , Jaime thought absently, finding the very idea of wielding words with the talented blonde unusually rousing. Though instead of dwelling on what pleasantries that kind of passionate battle could lead to, Jaime opted to counter the blue flame starting to burn in her eyes with a joke.  
   
"Well, I can't say I've ever been a fan of playing by the rules."  
   
Brienne shot him a look that said far more than any witticism could, her patience with this particular game already starting to wear thin. "Don't you ever stop?"  
   
A dozen quips came to mind and Jaime smirked at the mix of determination and stubbornness being embedded into each of her tensed muscles. "It takes two to tango, sweetling, and you haven't stopped dancing yet either."  
   
"Don't call me sweetling", she snapped back without too much thought. "And whatever this looks like, Mr Lannister, I'm not trying to _dance_ with you; I'm trying to get to my train before it leaves."

"I thought we had agreed on 'Jaime'", he chastised softly, watching her face for any obvious changes. Brienne was almost too easy to read, but that strangely didn't make him any less inclined to pore over the words. Jaime cocked his head, listening to sounds being carried on the still night air, subconsciously encouraging her closer as he purred, “And Brienne, the music's still playing."  
   
"But who is it playing for?" Brienne asked quietly, a visible shiver preventing her from replying for a heartbeat. Jaime could only assume that the snow or wind must have finally found a way through her thick winter coat to her skin, bringing her obvious practicalities down to his less weather prepared level. She looked furious or confused or terrified as a chance step pushed her forward, her feet finally remembering years of extensive stage training. He happily moved with her, give and take, but a sudden high pitched squeal turned her head and took his attention with it. 

A second was all it took for Jaime to become distracted enough to be pulled away from their steps, drawn to the dusting of freckles that travelled in a near straight line from under her ear to disappear invitingly beneath her dark blue scarf. Turning back to him and breaking his reverie from her neck, Brienne broke their strange though temporary stalemate with a spinning move that only grazed grace but worked nevertheless.  
   
Jaime had to shake away the sudden return of a recurring dream her yawn and shy but satisfied smile produced, in which blue haunted him instead of green, where hard planes pressed against him rather than soft curves, sighing, writhing, moaning. Forgetting all about the cold, he settled casually against the low wall again, lost in his thoughts. 

He took a breath as Brienne yawned for a second time, looking like she was now fighting against the urge to walk away, fatigue replacing fury and softening her features.

She might have been thinking about escaping to a warmer place, to where she could lay her head upon her waiting pillow, but as Brienne risked a cautious glance back at him, Jaime wondered if she too was experiencing the same shifting, confusing dreams that had plagued him since their first meeting. And, if so, if there was any possibility that she had begun to welcome them as much as he did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be up Saturday or Sunday. Thanks again!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "We can't be playing host to The Times night after night when there are people who actually want to see..."
> 
> "You."
> 
> Illuminated by the street light she had paused under, Jaime watched her eyes flicker over to the dispersing group of besotted teenagers and back to him, repeating the movement like Brienne was trying to work out something she couldn't grasp. "Stop teasing. They're... you're not here to see me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another big thank you to everybody reading this story :) I hope you continue to enjoy it!

"Am I keeping you up?" Jaime drawled incredulously as the air left her lungs in a sigh, forcing him to push away the hazy image of an unusually freckled blonde girl stretched out on his bed, heavy lidded eyes drawing him ever closer. "Surely you must have some kind of after party to show your dour head at."

"On a Tuesday in the middle of a run?" Brienne furrowed her brows like the concept was something entirely new, like she was having trouble believing she was still talking to him after their previous conversation, and in spite of her stage presence Jaime couldn't help but be more intrigued by the hint of innocence his long years in the entertainment business had rarely witnessed. It certainly hadn't been something Cersei had wanted to cling onto any longer than was necessary.

"It has been known to happen", his eyes moved of their own accord and trailed surreptitiously up and down Brienne's broad form, already having some idea of the strength hidden underneath due to the collection of occasionally translucent blue silks that made up her costume. "We live in a big city; it shouldn't be that difficult to find something to gate crash. But you would have to change before we leave."

Brienne shook her head uneasily, suddenly as skittish as a frightened horse, neither of them understanding why he had accidentally asked her out. "Into what? I have no desire to be treated like a joke because you're bored."

Jaime was starting to realise that he was anything but _bored_ in her presence, shuffling along the wall to challenge her general discomfort and self-consciousness by placing himself within touching distance. He could just about feel the waves of warmth coming off Brienne as she blinked and blushed and bolted.

"Brienne", he called after her rapidly departing figure, impressively long legs putting as much space between them as possible, not recognising the reasons why he didn't want to give the giant girl back to the world just yet. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have implied that."

She stopped and turned, the clouds of fog forming from her sharp exhales providing the only sign that he was getting under her skin yet again, her lack of trust in him palpable for a second. "I hope you have enough information about the play to finish whatever it is you're working on... Jaime. We can't be playing host to The Times night after night when there are people who actually want to see..."

"You."

Illuminated by the street light she had paused under, Jaime watched her eyes flicker over to the dispersing group of besotted teenagers and back to him, repeating the movement like Brienne was trying to work out something she couldn't grasp. "Stop teasing. They're... you're not here to see me."

 _Why not?_ he thought, refusing to be the first to break eye contact, _You're just as good as the rest of them._  A feeling of gratification washed over Jaime as she dropped her gaze to inspect one of the many frozen over puddles, smugly twitching at the corner of his mouth as he felt Brienne shyly studying him a few seconds later while the girls passed her by without a word.

"Lions don't concern themselves with the opinions of sheep, so why should you?" Jaime growled, repeating words of his father that normally would have stuck in his throat but flowed all too easily when faced with beautifully earnest blue eyes. He guessed Brienne wasn't the type to search for sympathy or praise, but that didn't stop the strange pang in his heart at how young and vulnerable she looked standing under the artificial light, much too young to let the business lead her down the same cynical road that had claimed him.

She waited until the teenagers had giggled out of earshot, more concerned for their feelings than his. "Watch your mouth, those 'sheep' keep this place running."

"Is your last name Stark now? I could have sworn it was something else in the programme."

"The Starks have been very good to me", Brienne hesitated for a second but he waited to hear how she was going to dig herself out of the hole he'd pushed her into. "Not all of us want to be lions, Jaime."

"Remind me to bring up this conversation when you're jetting off to The Free Cities with a multi movie deal in your gigantic hand."

"I'm happy here."

"You could have fooled me."

She glared and Jaime was reminded of a girl he'd half glimpsed years earlier, a rare day where his talent with words had been called upon to quiz the latest group of hopeful stars to walk the hallowed boards of The Sept, Kings Landing’s top drama school. Her eyes were swimming in unshed tears, stage armour an unusual mix of blue and gold, though his surprisingly amorous early morning visit from Cersei meant Jaime had missed seeing the first few teenagers perform, so he never learnt the reason why that one had been such a disaster. The remaining students were laughing as he entered the room, _they're not here to see me_ , muttering out derogatory names far worse than the ones he had pushed onto Brienne, _they're not here to see me_ , the girl stubbornly refusing to return for the rest of the session. It wasn’t until much later that he’d learned what had transpired that day for the unfortunate child.

The realisation hit him so hard that Jaime had to swallow a triumphant bark of laughter. "Do you really think anyone out there would call you 'The Beauty' after the kind of performances you've been giving?" _How did those idiots not notice her eyes?_

The same stunning eyes which were now narrowing as she began to stride forcefully back towards him, Jaime jumping to his feet to prevent Brienne from overplaying her obvious height advantage. "How... when were you at The Sept?"

It was a furious accusation, but even rescuing the lad who played her squire from the clutches of the media hadn't produced the same slight note of fear in her voice. Jaime shrugged as she squared her shoulders, no longer concerned by the fact that they were standing nose to nose, fixed in the other's orbit and only a breath away from a punch or a kiss. He was now close enough to catch every one of her exhales, should he have wanted to, watching as Brienne simmered and shivered as if caught in a silent internal battle. By the time the taxi pulled up to the curb beside them Jaime didn't know whether to be pleased or annoyed at the interruption.

"Ask me nicely and I might tell you."

"I don't know what game you're trying to play..."

"No game, sweetling, I just think everybody should know that when you speak of a future Dayne Award winner, you call them by their name."

*******

Brienne was vaguely aware of the loitering black cab out of the corner of her eye, the usual attentiveness she paid to her surroundings having been dampened as soon as Jaime brought back a rush of memories better forgotten with the use of a most hated nickname he shouldn't have even known. She'd long since realised that no one would ever genuinely call her 'beautiful' but the way Jaime was looking at her, with something closer to respect rather than pity, it was almost like... _No_ , she thought, refusing to meet his easy smile with any kind of emotion, she would not be pulled into Sansa's impossibly romantic daydreams. 

Though after pushing those thoughts away, it was really the casual way he'd dropped Sir Arthur Dayne's name into their conversation, like the upcoming nominations shouldn't be a big deal to her, that had felt like a punch Brienne hadn't been able to dodge. The weight behind his words briefly floored her, the hint of unexpected kindness hiding behind Jaime's general arrogance somehow tougher to brush away than if he had just called her 'a giant beast of a woman' like last time. He was still messing with her head, though she could no longer distinguish whether it was more by chance or good design, and Brienne knew she should have turned and walked away before she was out of her depth, but something stopped her feet. 

"What don't I know?"

The same smug look of amusement Brienne had become acquainted with on press night slowly spread across his face, their continued closeness allowing her to catch all of Jaime's twitches and the way the lines around his eyes and mouth deepened as if he could hear her heart beginning to speed for no apparent reason. "Gods, where do I begin? I assume you know where babies come from?"

As if sensing her hesitation he winked and Brienne felt her hackles rise, her waking world suddenly as green as any one of her dreams. She shook her head in exasperation and Jaime bit into his ever widening grin, her stomach twisting into knots to join her heart in acting out of the ordinary. "Well, when a man loves a woman...."

"I really don't have time for this. I have..."

"A train, you may have mentioned that already." The words were in the neighbourhood of gentle, even as they dripped with sarcasm, and Brienne took a step back before he could fully embrace softer and more complicated emotions. Jaime was blindingly beautiful looking up at her, the theatre's security lights gleaming off his golden mane to grant him an out of place halo. "But unless your train passes right by your front door, surely it would be better to get into this conveniently placed cab and not have to worry about falling asleep and ending up in Dorne."

"It takes almost an hour by car, the train is much quicker." Brienne justified as quickly as she could, not wanting to tell the independently wealthy Lannister Incorporated heir that a cab ride which would cost upwards of forty dragons was a luxury she couldn't afford on a regular basis. And she certainly didn't think she _liked_ Jaime enough to spend any more time with him, especially not in a enclosed space where she could be the punchline to his every joke. If history really did repeat itself then she would only be asking for trouble with more comments about her height, questions about her non-existent sex life and suggestive implications that he was strong enough to handle her. 

"Wouldn't it make sense to just live closer instead of wasting all that time commuting?" Jaime asked like she was stupid enough to not have considered moving at some point. Brienne didn't really have a sensible explanation, her house was filled with too many memories she couldn't let go of yet, but Jaime continued without even pausing to listen for one. "I'm serious about the Dorne thing by the way. My brother once took a night train from The Wall to Kings Landing, fell asleep in the Riverlands and woke up the next morning in Sunspear."

As if her traitorous body was vindicating his story Brienne tried to take a calming breath that quickly became another yawn, the amusement that had flowed like electricity through Jaime now crackling into something completely different. His eyes appeared to darken as they moved across her face, her cold stained cheeks and slightly parted lips, seeming to linger over glimpses of rapidly flushing skin.

"Just how drunk was he?" Brienne managed to splutter out just as Jaime pulled himself away, strolling quickly towards the waiting car. She wanted him gone, wanted him closer, wanted to keep watching him watch her, wanted things she couldn't name or understand. Brienne silently asked the Warrior for the strength to stay cold and detached when all she could think about was a warm shower and an even warmer bed, accepting that forests of mossy green would be carrying her through another night of confused imagery.

"Since he's pretty much a functioning alcoholic, believe me that had nothing to do with it", Jaime called back, the sound muffled now he had retreated into the warmth, but still not willing to let her have the last word. "Come on then if you're coming."


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne half fell into the cab and settled as far away from Jaime as possible. 
> 
> She waited for him to pass judgement on her clumsiness, but he either didn't notice or, more likely, didn't care. 
> 
> "It looks like your boyfriend's getting impatient."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone!
> 
> This is becoming a bit of a slow build, but for anyone who is wondering it is definitely building towards sexytimes :) Thank you for all the support, to everyone who reads, leaves kudos or comments; everything is very much appreciated!

Her phone buzzed before Brienne could come up with a decent reason not to accept the ride, especially since their _dancing_ meant she had been knocked off her normal schedule. At that time of night the trains only ran every half hour or so and, despite his flirtatious overtures and Sansa's hopes for a more romantic future, Jaime Lannister was probably the last person alive who would think to try anything with her.

Or anything with any woman who wasn't interested, judging by his behaviour in the green room bar after a patron got a little too friendly with one of the bartenders during press night. Coming from somewhere like _Harrenhal_ meant the girl had probably handled that kind of attention before, but it didn't mean Jaime's gesture wasn't appreciated. In fact Pia was at least half the reason why he hadn't been without a drink all night, although Brienne found she couldn't really pass the blame for anything that had followed. That was to be aimed somewhere in between Jaime's fondness for profanity and her inability to notice a double entendre until it had just about smacked her in the face. 

Plucking the attention seeking device out of her pocket, and hoping her dad would be pleased that she wasn't spending another night waiting around the near empty train station, Brienne half fell into the cab and settled as far away from Jaime as possible. 

She waited for him to pass judgement on her clumsiness, but he either didn't notice or, more likely, didn't care. 

"It looks like your boyfriend's getting impatient."

"I don't have a..." she looked up from the message, noticing that Jaime was staring resolutely ahead as if forcing himself not to look at her. “If you must know, it's my agent. I've been called to an audition on Friday."

"Brienne, Warrior Princess?" he drawled, directing the taxi driver away from the city centre and towards a main road, still fixed on the lights in front of them. "Just tread carefully, casting agents usually don't like it when their actors' defaults are punch and glare."

"It's for a superhero movie", she confessed, more than a little annoyed that Goodwin had persuaded her into even enquiring about the role in the first place.

"Hmmmmm, well that didn't take long."

"What?" Brienne huffed, ignoring the way his wordless rumble made her stomach clench like she was waiting to fall over the highest point of a roller coaster. "It was a favour for a friend."

"Oh I believe you, despite making it abundantly clear that you're still very happy at The Fell." Jaime paused for effect and she braced herself for what was coming next. "I'm just picturing you in armour. Norse maybe since it's in favour, one of the goddesses, ponytail, leather skirt, it's... different."

"You mean ugly."

"No, I mean different."

The blush crept up her neck unbidden, fortunately hidden by the dark, making Brienne wish she could find any truth in the ambiguous word choice. "I don't think I have to go in costume."

"By all means then, punch and glare away." 

Brienne could hear the laughter return to Jaime's voice, amused by the fact that she was deliberately setting herself up for a highly embarrassing morning, although that didn't stop her stealing glances to check if it had brightened his face like before. 

"Keep your eyes on the road, Brienne; I have no idea where you live."

"Evenfall Road." The rising heat reached her cheeks with the realisation that Jaime's actions had once again been mirroring hers, catching him casting emerald tinged looks her way. "It's..."

"I know where it is." Jaime confirmed, relaying a series of instructions to the driver which were far clearer than hers would have been. Brienne shuffled deeper into the seat as he found her a quicker route home, folding her uncomfortably long legs up on the leather, careful to maintain her current distance from Jaime. The night stretched out in front of her, full of possibilities, and Brienne closed her eyes for a second to stop her head from spinning as sparks of white light blinked and blurred through the gently swirling snow.

 

"... and then he fell into a plant pot."

It took Brienne a while to realise that Jaime was no longer talking to the driver, forcing herself to turn to the imposingly attractive man still by her side. "What?" she blinked, feeling sleep pull and hold her eyelids down, the earlier dizziness now having disappeared along with most of their journey.

"So that's what it takes to get your attention", Jaime mused, his coat now lying abandoned in the seat between them, shirt sleeves pushed up to his elbows in response to the rise in temperature. "Perverted slap stick comedy."

Fatigue lingering for a moment longer, she ran her eyes over the expanse of tanned skin now on show, the bunched up material straining a little over obvious biceps, chewing at the inside of her cheek while wanting and not wanting to imagine how those muscles would feel under her hands, pressed against her, wrapped around her. Jaime caught her eye knowingly, _he wants me to look_ , and she swallowed hard. 

"Are you just about done?"

Brienne sat up, scrambling out of her own coat which had been acting as a make shift duvet through the last twenty miles, his name growling past her lips like it wasn't something new and terrifying. "Plant pot, Jaime?"

"It wouldn't be funny if I repeated it."

She wanted to ask where he lived, why he hadn't left her alone, but she only rolled her eyes. "It probably wasn't even funny in the first place."

"You can't know that." The car slid to a halt just as Jaime moved to engage her in another bout of verbal sparring, a flood of scarlet light screaming out that they should both stop immediately. "I don't suppose anyone has ever mentioned that you make little noises in your sleep like you're...." his attention moved from her mid sentence, focusing on something unknown over her shoulder. ”Fuck!"

Her eyes widened, not at the vulgarity, but the implication behind his words, leaving Brienne to only hope that wasn't what the already fading hazy dream had been about. She wasn't so naïve to never have experienced such a thing, though the majority of her fantasies were a little more wakefully self guided, but it was the look of genuine surprise on Jaime's face that cleared her mind of the oncoming storm of embarrassment. "What did you do now?"

"Too many things", Jaime laughed darkly. "Quite a few before you were even old enough to read, so it's not worth worrying about."

"I'm not _worried_ ", she snapped, watching the way the changing colours emphasised the pain of hunger and sadness in his eyes. "Remember you're the one who approached me, Jaime, not the other way around."

"And maybe that's where you've been going wrong. Would a smile and some good publicity kill you?"

"Possibly."

Jaime tore himself away from his problem to prod at one of hers, leaning in closer as Brienne mentally prepared herself to deal with questions of a less personal nature. "Tell me, other than possible superheroes, have you any idea what you're going to do when you outgrow the hospitality of the Starks?"

"So it can end up in your next article under something titled... 'delusions of drama school graduates'?" Brienne countered as quickly as she could, determined not to react in the same blushing way as press night, when Jaime was even closer than he was now, his nose briefly buried in her hair while murmured words found her ear, looking to the whole world like lovers rather than adversaries. She shivered at the memory, more distaste than desire but it didn't mean the latter was completely missing from her slowly boiling blood.

"I might have to use that one", he smiled as Brienne defensively folded her arms across her chest, realising too late that everything was strangely personal with Jaime. Though the bitterness in his tone was disappearing along with whatever had caused it in the first place, the cab picking up speed again. "Tonight is completely off the record. I'm not going to spill your virginal secrets, Brienne, cross my heart."

She could feel herself burning up but neither confirmed or denied Jaime's suspicions, there had been someone but that was a piece of information she wasn't comfortable sharing, instead using valuable seconds to turn away and further direct their driver. Though when Brienne addressed Jaime again her voice quivered, tiny but determined. "Why should I trust you?"

"You wouldn't have left yourself fall asleep in a cab with a near stranger if you didn't." He had a point but Brienne momentarily couldn't see past the bewilderment which clouded her mind, Jaime had only met her twice and already seemed to understand her intentions as well as her best friend. 

"And since you made sure I got home in one piece the last time we talked, I think I can trust you." 

_Last time we talked..._ , she thought, remembering how Jaime had tripped over a step leading out of the bar and she had excused herself from a conversation with Catelyn, Sansa's mother, to check if he was alright. Jaime wasn't really her responsibility, he was a grown man after all, but since she had been his sole focus for most of the night nobody else was likely going to help.

"I've got to admit that's the quickest I've fallen for any girl", he had joked, holding her gently around the waist as Brienne threw open the main doors. 'Are you going to come home with me as well, you great beast of a woman?'

"I think you can find your own way to your bed."

Jaime had let his lips almost but not quite touch her skin again, inhaling sweat and the excess powder of her stage make up, murmuring nonsensical words that almost sounded like she would be welcome to join him.

"Go home and sleep it off, Lannister."

"Jaime", he had told her before she'd shoved him into a waiting cab, turning away as her heart sped out of control. 

 

"You might not have actually gotten home otherwise."

"Still, I suppose I should thank you for that." Jaime softened for a beat and there was an undeniable twitch in her hand that wanted to touch him. As if that could steal away whatever was making him look like something important had come to an end. "You seem to be making a habit of inspiring trust. Not that you're going to circulate anything I say to an audience of millions."

Brienne granted him a wan smile for acknowledging the elephant in the room, however arrogantly, her mind still replaying previous events. ' _You move remarkably well for a woman of your size._ ' "Millions?"

"Millions." She thought she saw his hand tremble as they passed under a blazing street light, wondering if Jaime was battling similar thought patterns, but it had disappeared before the cab was illuminated again. "What exactly do think I have to gain by lying to you?"

"I... I don't know." It had only been an assumption after all. ' _I don't know what you're trying to prove, but I'm not easily provoked._ ' "I'm sorry."

"Gods, how have they not eaten you alive yet?" Jaime murmured, so quietly she barely heard him. "To tell the _truth_ , at the last set of lights, when we stopped, there was a poster which reminded me about a play I'd tried to forget was opening." ' _Tell me, do you usually resemble a tomato when you're not provoked?_ '

"If you hate your job that much, why not do something different?" ' _I know who you are and unless you have actual questions for me, I'd prefer not to talk._ '

" _Dracarys_ ", he continued with only a half grimace to indicate her question had even been heard, Jaime's hand coming into contact with her knee as the car rounded one of the last corners before they reached her house, unbalancing him for just long enough to squeeze at the twitching muscle before apologetically pulling away. "Which promises to be a less than pleasant experience, especially since it’s mainly in fucking Dothraki. Do you know anyone this far north who actually speaks that dead horse language?" ' _You do know that you're supposed to talk to me tonight? But if you insist, who's bright idea was it to give you the mask?_ '

There was definitely more to Jaime's annoyance than just being annoyed at the foreign text, as it likely wouldn't have been the first time he'd been called to review something out of his comfort zone. Brienne nodded as he looked on, half remembering a cautionary tale about a short lived production of _Wildfyre_ and not becoming overly friendly with critics in case they chose to stab actors in the back, but since they weren't really friends she didn't think it applied. ' _The mask?_ ' "I do."

"Now's not the time to start joking, woman." ' _I was just wondering since your eyes might be the only part of you worth looking at._ '

"I'm being completely serious. Bravosi or Valyrian wouldn't be much of a problem either." ' _It's... it's part of the character._ '

"Show off", Jaime grumbled. ' _Then the character needs work._ ' "If you didn't work nights I'd think about taking you along as my official translator."

"If I didn't work nights I'd maybe think about going with you." ' _Are you normally this stunning and shallow?_ ' The sentiment left her lips before she had time to think it through, the possibility of another night of warring whispers providing a strange spark of excitement deep in her soul. Jaime smiled like the words were a shock but not unwelcome by any means, making Brienne colour with instant regret, feeling like she'd unwittingly walked into a trap set simply by the suggestion of flecks of gold in his eyes. ' _I mean... stunningly shallow._ ' "I mean... it's been years since I've seen authentic Dothraki theatre."

"I wouldn't have taken you as a fan", Jaime took her feeble attempt at a cover up and spun it in a way that left her wishing she'd risked the possibility of falling asleep on a train and completely missing her stop after all. "What with all the fucking. They say conception rates sky rocket when _Vaes Dothrak_ are in town." ' _I know what you meant. And yes, I am. Thank you for noticing._ '

"How do you even know that?"

"If you wanted to seduce me..." ' _Can I get you a drink?_ '

"Shut up." ' _I don't think..._ '

"Why? Am I offending your delicate sensibilities again?" ' _I doubt you get paid to do much thinking, but if you really want questions I'd love to ask you about your sword._ '

Even in the half light Brienne could have sworn that Jaime's face dropped when she politely asked the driver to pull up at the next corner, they weren't quite at her door but a two minute walk in the cold was going to do more good than harm right about then. She risked a look at the counter and had to stop herself cursing over how stupid she'd been to not even check how much the cab was going to cost before getting in and closing her eyes. Rummaging in her pockets to bring up a fistful of change, Jaime caught her wrist before she could repeat the movement. His fingertips impatiently moved to brush and brand sensitive skin in slowly circling patterns, each touch emphasising the steady pound of her heart.

"This is on me." His voice had dropped, filled with genuine sincerity, and instinctively she leaned across to catch whatever was coming next.

"I can't let you...” his thumb slipped under the cuff of her sweater and Brienne had to bite back a hiss of contentment which surfaced from the simplicity of human contact putting her on edge. “...do that." Her caught breath found a voice, pulling out a demand and from the look Jaime was sending her, lip between his teeth, pupils growing as he helped her close the distance between them, he had no clue where they were going either but stopping before they arrived there suddenly seemed like a very bad idea.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Do what?”  
>    
> His breath ghosted over her heated skin, closer and closer, goose bumps rushing down her spine as if caught in a desperate race to put claim to her body’s undeniable reactions, the sudden prickle of stubble against her cheek causing Brienne to whisper his name. " _Jaime_." An answer, a warning, a plea. " _Jaime_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm (probably) half way through his story at this point, and the updates may have to slow down to once a week since I'm back at work and haven't got so much time to write.
> 
> Thank you again for all your lovely comments and support!

“Do what?”  
   
His breath ghosted over her heated skin, closer and closer, goose bumps rushing down her spine as if caught in a desperate race to put claim to her body’s undeniable reactions, the sudden prickle of stubble against her cheek causing Brienne to whisper his name. " _Jaime_." An answer, a warning, a plea. " _Jaime_." Something reverent, wary and now far too close to be misunderstood even if she didn’t realise what it truly meant.  
   
The pressure at her wrist soon lifted, their fingers immediately intertwining as if her whisper had been hiding a silent order he had no choice but to follow, disappearing coins forgotten as he began to nuzzle into the curve of her neck. It was too much and not nearly enough; Jaime nipping at a previously untouched spot behind her ear to make Brienne tangle her fingers deep into the silky strands of his golden mane, gasping and giggling as the extra touch only pushed him to trail hot open mouthed kisses along her jaw. She couldn’t fight off the shivers that started to cascade over her skin, feeling rather than hearing Jaime laugh at her receptiveness, as if loathe to pull away if it meant he could only play with words again.

Instead he allowed each casual insult, each misplaced term of endearment, each wicked whisper to become little more than muffled, wordless noises, swallowed up by the novelty of every glancing touch. Brienne didn't want to consider why the building tension between them had broken down walls between hate and lust, the continued murmuring vibrations produced from Jaime's roving lips stealing her focus.

With her heart pounding like she had just stepped off stage, it took more effort than Brienne ever thought possible to run her trembling fingers gently through his hair, Jaime's purring response bringing to mind the only friendly cat she'd ever owned. A laugh rose in her throat and he languidly stole the sound before it surfaced, the hard press of lips and teeth sure to leave an obvious bruise for the whole world to see. Though with rationality becoming a lost art screaming out at the back of her mind Brienne found she cared less then she should, overpowered by the tell tale flutter of need starting to pool low in her stomach and the revelatory sparks set ablaze from the way Jaime was taking his time to work up the column of her neck.

Brienne let her eyes flicker shut, forgetting that Jaime was probably much too old for her and she wasn't nearly pretty enough for him, feeling a conceited smile spread across his face as she began to meet his challenges with touches of her own. She had learnt to kiss not at any one of the parties that her high school drama club weren't cool enough to be invited to, but as an adult in a classroom, Hyle's promises that 'all lips were made for kissing' becoming a strange mantra to repeat before every awkward stage embrace. 

But even his stupidly self serving advice couldn't explain how it felt to urge Jaime a little closer, allowing just enough room so that her lips could gently press against his cheek, feeling the brush of his eyelashes as she followed a clear line to his temple, the soft, careful touches appearing to hide the lack of experience guiding them. Jaime found her ear, biting into the lobe and breathing out her name to give Brienne a moment where she believed she was exactly what he wanted.

_Wanted. Not liked, definitely not loved but wanted._

In the near dark time seemed to slow; seconds becoming hours, his hand sliding up her side to brush deliberately over a breast, hers creeping down his back to feel muscles quiver and roll. And when tenderly ravenous lips finally crashed against hers, hesitantly eager, it only took a few seconds to become fully accustomed to the other's rhythm. 

Though after the occasional bump of noses transformed into something less awkward, dancing around the precicpe of passion, Brienne couldn't be sure who made the first move to turn their waltz into a tango. Jaime matched her heavy breath for heavy breath as she shuffled and comfortably curled in her seat, making space for him to mirror her position, on her side, right shoulder and hip pressed into the leather. His wandering hand splayed possessively over her shoulder blade, encouraging rather than demanding, the other coming up to tenderly press against her cheek before burrowing into waves of straw that Sansa had primped and curled earlier, dozens of leading touches keeping them joined.

_Is it supposed to feel like... this?_

She was doing her best to suckle at his lower lip in between breathlessly building kisses, pulling out a low groan as his talented tongue darted out to find hers. Striking, stroking, showing off, Jaime met her mouth again and again in an increasingly lewd display of what he could do to other parts of her body, should she be interested. And if the hand in his hair or the quietly mumbled sounds into his mouth were anything to go by, there was at least some part of Brienne that might be.  
   
Jaime pressed one last smiling kiss to her lips, something gentle and far more loving than the descending haze of lust truly warranted, pulling away only to further acquaint himself with the taste of her skin. 

_He could have anybody, why does he want me?_

Brienne had just about found the courage needed to slip a hand under his shirt, his skin nearly as warm as hers, both of his arms moving to hold her tight while Jaime happily murmured into patches of freckles that seemed to have been specifically placed for him to find. Her name was on his lips, clearly enjoying time spent on hungry exploration before moving on to the main event. 

_Bed or sofa?_

The thought alone filled Brienne with something closer to worry than want, inexperience and practicalities flooding back as she considered the pros and cons of having a one night stand with Jaime Lannister, of all people. _I'm not... didn't men want soft, helpless women they needed to protect? I'm not..._

It might only take six words or so to get Jaime through her front door, but she wouldn't be able to face herself in the morning if she allowed whatever this journey had become to move any faster. Tonight. And she certainly wouldn't be able to face him. Despite Sansa's words to the contrary, guys as pretty as Jaime Lannister didn't want to be associated with girls like her once the sun had risen. Brienne had sadly learnt that particular lesson the hard way.  
   
And yet, there must have been something that caused him to travel so far out of his way to make sure she got home safely. _Repaying a debt_ , Brienne told herself, misplaced misogyny and the unusual kindness of strangers breaking through the continued considered touches of his hands and lips. Or maybe there was a chance Jaime was just like the boys at The Sept who had wanted to fuck her just to say that they had.  
   
Growing uncomfortable with their positioning as her mind played out a couple of hurtful scenarios, Brienne shuffled, embarrassingly now firmly pressed against Jaime's toned upper body, one leg near enough wrapping around his calf as soon as his thigh had found a home between her legs, the pair swearing in tandem as her knee came in contact with his very obvious erection.  
   
"Seven hells, woman", Jaime winced, falling back to his earlier safe distance, the green in his eyes almost entirely swallowed up by his blown pupils. "Next time just say 'stop' instead of automatically kneeing me in the balls."  
   
Brienne took a breath that escaped as a pant, burning hot enough to fuel every single light on her street, desperately trying to get her heart to slow down before rational thought was overwhelmed again. Jaime's mention of a 'next time' not helping her current state of mind at all. "I didn't mean... I mean I wanted... I should go... get inside. I'm sorry."  
   
He muttered something that sounded distinctly like 'stupid, stubborn, clumsy girl' while Brienne paid close attention to the way pain flickered across his face, that time not even fighting the urge to touch him. "I am sorry", she murmured, cupping his jaw before her fingertips moved of their own accord to smooth out the lines appearing along his forehead. Jaime subconsciously licked his lips as she soothed, Brienne trying not to watch the slow flick of his tongue, trying not to remember it in her mouth, feeling like she was going to explode or throw up. And as she plummeted into emerald depths she felt something significant, though unspoken, pass between them. But it was little more than a charged second before Jaime jerked away from the contact.  
   
"I don't think we should let this become anything else... tonight", Brienne told him as the haze lifted but before he could get another word in, sounding more confident than she felt with her heart trying to burst out of her chest.

"Tell that to your hands. Or your tongue. Not interested doesn't usually involve moaning and shoving it into somebody else's mouth."

"I... you... you started it!"

"Like you wouldn't have punched me in the face if that had been your first thought rather than..."

"Jaime, I..."  _I don't know what I'm doing_. 

Pulling away from the promise dying in his eyes to find the emergency cash she kept in an inner coat pocket, Brienne handed it over to the driver. And as she reached for the door, a shiver threatening as soon as the winter made its presence known, she paused between reality and the warm dream in the cab so that she could take one more look at Jaime, wishing she had insisted on dropping him off first if only to have prevented any of this from occurring. 

_I can't do this. I don't even really know you... I wish I knew you._

"Goodnight Jaime."  
   
There was more than a trace of arrogance returning to his tone as he replied. "Do you know how many girls out there would say 'thank you' for tonight?"  
   
 _For offering to pay for the cab or the random make out session?_ "I'm not like that."  
   
"Thank the Gods." Jaime absently threw away the line, but it sounded as blunt and truthful as any one of his insults. "So, can you tell me what you'll be working on next. Or is it some kind of closely guarded industry secret?"  
   
"Singing lessons." Brienne was out of the car before the last word hit the air, sharing something with him that would be eventually made public in a couple of months. Although the idea that he might be at The Fell at least once, watching closely as she pranced around in the ridiculous red dress Sansa had picked out, made her more nervous than it should have. "Goodnight Jaime."  
   
"Goodnight Brienne."  
   
*******  
   
Jaime waited until she had disappeared from view, blonde hair shining like a beacon, striding out into the night even as she cowered from the wind, every inch of Brienne radiating a contradictory mix of confidence and self-consciousness. He had to tear his eyes away to snap out an address to the driver, deciding that a drink was all he really needed, something strong enough to take away the taste of the girl who'd been moving and moaning under him just moments earlier. Jaime couldn't think straight while she was still flooding his senses, a side effect of their spontaneous burst of passion mocking him from the steamed up window where they had been wrapped around each other. Reaching over to angrily wipe a hand over the glass, he almost felt grateful that her clumsy moves had painfully pacified his traitorous cock, which surely wouldn't have reacted so quickly had he been anywhere near a woman in the past year. _Anywhere near Cersei_ , Jaime thought, finding it strange that she hadn't crossed his mind since before the cab had arrived.   
   
The lights were all on green as he travelled back towards the city, barely even pausing at the spot where the Targaryen girl had silently judged him for a couple of defamatory pieces he'd written about her father some fifteen years earlier. The _Wildfyre_ fiasco had made Jaime a household name, for about six months, until his father and a few lawyers became involved. But that had only been after his words had, predictably, bitten him in the ass. It had all now faded to become little more a superstitious bedtime story told to wide eyed drama students, with culture critics playing the role of the villain, as if real life could really be that simple. Though, as the night blurred into an endless stream of midnight blue, grass green and ethereal violet, at least considering how to approach giving the youngest member of the Arts and Cultures section his first high profile review, so Jaime could avoid having to deal with Dothraki and dragons, was allowing him not to dwell on the need to call Brienne. Or Cersei. Or... _Fuck_ , he really needed that drink.  
   
The cab cost a small fortune by the time it pulled up outside his building, about ten minutes from The Fell Theatre though in the opposite direction from where Brienne had needed to be. But as the small hours of the morning reminded him that he was no longer young enough to repeat that particular stunt on a regular basis, Jaime found he couldn't care less. And maybe now whatever debt he owed Brienne had been returned in kind, her ridiculously pretty eyes would stop drawing him to The Wolves of Winter. Though even that half thought brought back a rush of sensation he could only associate with seeing Brienne flushed with desire, eyes darkening from sapphire to cobalt to midnight, swollen lips pleasantly betraying her youth and relative inexperience, pressed so close he could feel the slight cushion of her nonexistent breasts rubbing against his chest.  
   
Jaime leant his head against the lobby wall while he waited for the elevator, realising that he would have followed Brienne anywhere, to her bed or the edge of the world, had she asked in the same breathless tone she'd used to gasp out his name.  
   
He _really_ needed that drink.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne didn't need to dwell on the hows and whys, not when it would be better for all involved to let Jaime's sudden interest fade into fantasy, a dream of a time when she was, however momentarily, wanted by a man she readily dreamt about through the safety of emerald coloured glasses.
> 
> *******
> 
> Jaime yawned, tomorrow having now faded into today, and the only thing the night had clarified was that stepping foot in The Fell again any time soon would be a spectacularly bad idea. Though if there was one thing he'd never been very good at, it was listening to his own advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a day later than expected, here is the next chapter of Take Off Your Colours. This was honestly one of hardest parts to write, as RoseHeart can attest, and I'm a little nervous about posting since it's not as explosive as Chapter 5. Anyway, thank you to all who have commented, left kudos, read and enjoyed! I really appreciate every word of support :)

Brienne shut the front door behind her with some finality, her breath lost to the cold night, the surprise of spontaneity, the kiss she hadn't seen coming. Half a lifetime ago, though it wasn't really more than five or six years, she could have brushed away the touch as something stolen but as soon as he, _Jaime_ , had crossed their drawn invisible line, she hadn't been too far behind. 

For a few moments it had almost been as if the world had melted away, breaking through her normal thought patterns to allow Brienne the time to discover and enjoy the feel of the golden demigod thrown into her usual churning sea of self doubt, tangled up in each other as if Jaime had been caught in a net of her own making. But the moment passed, she let it go as realisation dawned that simply kissing him until she was too exhausted to do anything else wouldn't satisfy a building need, _he was hard and I hadn't even..._ , time skipping and slowing and speeding, relative in a way she'd only ever experienced when waiting for calls from her agent.

She didn't need to dwell on the hows and whys, not when it would be better for all involved to let Jaime's sudden interest fade into fantasy, a dream of a time when she was, however momentarily, wanted by a man she readily dreamt about through the safety of emerald coloured glasses.

Slipping off her shoes Brienne turned on the hallway light, the carpet underfoot singing a peculiar song of comfort. The longing to disappear was still there but instead she took a breath and faced her judgemental reflection, the innocent ingenue in her head seemingly at odds with the wanton woman staring back. Old habits rose nervously and she raked her teeth across the kiss swollen surface that was her lower lip, eyes paradoxically dark and bright like a morning sunset. She blinked, hoping to banish the swirling sea of emotion back to a safe distance but only received more in return as whatever mark, whatever claim he'd offered to her mouth surged, sharp and heady, arrogantly demanding her full attention. 

"That's enough now", she muttered, though whether the reprimand was aimed solely at herself or at the silently smirking silver-tongued man in her head, on her lips, under her skin, Brienne couldn't be sure. And despite being taught that lust wasn't anything but cold and selfish, fleeting and fickle, she couldn't stop herself burning alive as if Jaime's touches had dripped wildfyre directly into her veins.

_So, clumsy girl, I take it that's the quickest you've ever fallen for anyone._

She could hear Jaime's smile in her head, the shining pride that he'd inserted himself into her life without really trying, even if it was just a fantasy. "I'm still not sure I even _like_ you."

_You don't really believe that, do you? Unless you go around kissing everyone you don't like._

"Have you got an answer for everything?"

_Take a good look at yourself and tell me you don't enjoy feeling like a woman for once._

"We're both going to regret this", Brienne sighed as the words flew around her, caught in a one sided argument she was never going to win. All the while her skin tingled in a way that made her want to scrub at the spots Jaime had grazed with fingers and lips until she couldn't recall how every kiss had been like oxygen to a drowning man.

Jaime laughed silently, the lack of sound reverberating inside of her. _We'll see. Sweet dreams, sweetling._

Brienne shook her head, noticing that the waves in her hair were scrunched tighter than ever where he'd taken a hold, and in the hope that tomorrow would bring a desperately needed clarity, double checked her locked door before climbing the stairs to a sensibly empty bed.

*******

Jaime had never liked coming home to a dark, abandoned apartment. On a normal day it merely served as a reminder of everything that he'd lost over the years but now, with his blood slowly returning to all extremities, it seemed the night was becoming a near physical being, mocking him for trying to mock her. _Brienne_. Though as soon as he'd pressed his lips to her skin, never realising quite how much he had wanted to do that, any inkling that they were simply playing a game disappeared right around the same time she started loosing her breath.

He barely paused long enough to flick on a light, vanquishing the laughing monsters looking for safety in dark corners, before pouring himself a generous helping from whichever bottle his hand found first. The scotch burnt the back of his throat, much like Jaime had hoped it would, stripping away the sweet flavour of summer which had been left to fester and multiply. Although the taste of her was something undemanding and gentle, _gentler than Cersei_ , keeping hold of it any longer wouldn't be good for his concentration. Forgetting that the dark liquor was much too old and potent to be drank quickly, Jaime hastily drained the glass, goodnight becoming goodbye, summer falling to winter, preserving the night as another beautifully blue half dream.

There were two messages blinking at him as Jaime passed the silently screaming machine since he did, after all, have a column to write at some point in the next twenty-four hours. However, for a second, he wondered if the gods had seen fit to grant a reprieve and there was an breathless apology or tentative declaration waiting for him. 

But Jaime had never been that lucky.

The first was a request from his overworked editor, who should have retired years ago but stayed on in part to mentor Jaime for the role, to be interviewed on breakfast radio in a little over five hours. It had the possibility of becoming a regular segment, although speculation about possible Dayne Award nominees and the most anticipated plays of the upcoming spring season should fill the first quarter hour neatly. Jaime nodded to the voice in acquiescence, realising he should be sleeping rather than drinking, but took another sip as Tyrion's tinny laugh embraced the room to ask if Jaime had finally found what he was searching for at The Fell.

' _Just be careful, brother, I'd hate to say I told you so._ '

The message turned out to be less about Tyrion's suspicions that his big brother was chasing after, and therefore risking his heart on, some pretty, talentless starlet and more focused on a gallery opening they should both show their faces at. Jaime snorted, realising he was considering the strange allure of the big blue eyed girl yet again before turning the overly amused voice off.

His brother's latest girlfriend was a flighty, bohemian artist from Lorath, who'd likely used her lover's pull to show a few pieces in the recently renovated space. It was easy to believe being associated with the Lannister's wouldn't be the worst move anyone in the arts could make, since there were enough charity dinners and movie premieres and award ceremonies to rub shoulders with the best and the brightest. However, unlike Tyrion's latest conquest, Brienne's cautious nature had seemed to indicate that any sort of journalistic interest would only derail a fledgling career before it had even really taken off. _Stupid, stubborn, oblivious wench._

Jaime yawned, tomorrow having now faded into today, and the only thing the night had clarified was that stepping foot in The Fell again any time soon would be a spectacularly bad idea. 

Though if there was one thing he'd never been very good at, it was listening to his own advice.

*******  
*******

"Is there maybe something you forgot to tell me?"

Brienne jumped as Sansa's head peeked around her dressing room door, mimicking a knock as if the redhead had been trying for some time to get her friend's attention. There were only ten minutes left of the interval before Brienne would be needed in the wings, but from the size of Sansa's ever growing smile the play was the last thing on her mind.

Brienne usually spent the twenty minute break alone, hidden away from any number of distractions in her dressing room. That night she had done everything as normal; wiped tears from her face, checked she hadn't hit Theon too hard, accepted a quick hug from the younger of the two Mormont sisters and retreated to the peace and quiet of the caramel coloured box.

Goodwin was putting more and more emphasis on the importance of self promotion by the day, almost as determined and matter of fact as Jaime had been that she would garner a nomination, but an interview here or a photo shoot there wouldn't hurt her chances. Brienne had never dealt with such an influx of correspondence before and let herself slip out of character just long enough to clear her inbox, recognising that only one message had been about something truly exciting; an invite to the grand re-opening of her favourite art gallery.

Though once her agent had been sufficiently pacified, the phone in her hand merely became a conduit which allowed Brienne to shyly browse photos from a recent Lannister hosted charity event. She didn't much like gossip, but it didn't feel all that _wrong_ to briefly intrude into a world of publicised privilege. Although the bow ties and ball gowns seemed directly at odds with the couple of shots of Jaime and his brother having wheelchair races with the very children the funds raised from the dinner were helping. Brienne was struck by how relaxed Jaime looked, full of so much infectious enthusiasm that the smile painted itself on her face before she really noticed and simply refused to leave until she tore her eyes away. He seemed more relaxed somehow and she found she liked catching a glimpse of him like that, as if all the arrogance had been pushed aside in order for Jaime to show that he truly cared about something other than himself.

Brienne had vowed not to waste her time thinking about him, any part of him, but that promise didn't even make it to the top of her stairs and Jaime had barely left her thoughts since he'd left her side three days earlier. She had awoken to his voice the morning after, the suggestive murmur of conceited boredom encouraging her to face whatever the day had to offer.

"Go back to sleep, Jaime", she muttered back, half asleep with the taste of him still hot on her tongue. The sheets were bunched and knotted around her, continuing waves of sensation having burst into glorious technicolor dreams so vivid that, for a second, Brienne believed the warmth in her bed was Jaime happily pressed against her back, holding her not because of any obligation but because he wanted to, ready to make her scream in ecstasy one last time before they both returned to reality. "Just give me five minutes..."

" _Dany Targaryen might very well be one to watch, yes, but you must remember..._ "

Brienne felt all the blood rush to her face, heart rising to her love bitten throat as his muffled words crackled a little through the speakers of her radio alarm. She pulled a pillow over her head, hiding from the way Jaime was unknowingly marking his territory, pleading with gods to stop messing with her by putting him on breakfast radio. _And today of all days_. The primal need he'd tapped into rose unbidden, coiling in her gut like a viper ready to strike, while Jaime kept purring on and on, each word somehow sounding like leading suggestions she was just worldly enough to recognise. 

Resisting the urge to stay put until he'd finished talking, to slip her hand into her pyjamas and bring herself to the same point each colourful writhing vision had promised, Brienne grudgingly decided she needed coffee more than a Jaime Lannister induced orgasm. 

And with most of her focus on the steaming liquid clasped between her hands, she couldn't help but laugh as his barely concealed sarcasm became more evident the longer he was on air. Still, it was the answer to Jaime's very last question that made her drop the half full mug, yielding to same surprise which coloured his tone.

_‘And before you go, since the Dayne Awards are on the horizon, has there been anyone in particular who has really stood out for you this year?’_

There had been a pause, a cough and a growl that sounded suspiciously like; _‘Brienne Tarth’_.

 

"Anything at all?"

Brienne looked at her friend and shook her head. "I don't think so."

"You're a terrible liar", Sansa commented, indicating that Brienne should stand up to prevent any further creases being pressed into the silks of her costume. "You've been inseparable from that thing the past few days. And I'm not even going to mention the hickey. So... what's his name?"

_Jaime._

Brienne felt her skin begin to scorch, caught in the peculiar power of Sansa's eternal optimism. "It's really not like that", she explained, the words running together in such a way that sounded like they were more for her own benefit that anyone else's.

Sansa cocked her head to look up at her friend quizzically. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

"Of course." They had been friends for years, right back to Brienne's first production with the company. But she still took several long strides to retrieve her mask from where it had been sitting by the door, promising herself that she wouldn't search for glinting greens gems again that night. “Can you give me a hand with this please?”

"Don't think you can change the subject, Bri, avoiding smudged eyeliner will not magically make me forget the bruise on your neck."

"I.."

Sansa smiled, leading her friend forward. "... made out with..."

 _Jaime_ , Brienne thought, _Just say it, of all the people who won't judge, Sansa is top of the list._ "Jaime Lannister."

Sansa let out an ear piercing shriek that probably could be heard in the auditorium, clapping her hands to her mouth. "I knew there was a connection between your texting and the near disappearance of our resident critic."

 _Near?_ As far as Brienne was concerned, Jaime had yet to take up his usual seat following their encounter. But as Sansa continued to grin, she dropped her gaze, trying not to let her thoughts linger on the way she had eagerly _connected_ with him in the back seat of that dark cab.

Ignoring her friend's reactions, the redhead turned the feathered mask over in her hands, contemplating which subject to broach as the five minute bell rang. "If you want, if you have time, tomorrow morning we could raid the wardrobe for your 'youth in retrospect' photo shoot and find you something that'll show off those amazingly long legs."

"Since that public endorsement _somebody_ made a few days ago, I don't think it should be too difficult to get you noticed." Sansa was getting ahead of herself again in her unofficial role as a one woman cheering squad. "Hopefully it'll encourage a whole new group of people to come and see how good you are on stage, how many weeks do we have left before _The Red Wedding_ opens again?"

"Not enough", Brienne admitted as the wardrobe assistant started her final check of the night, pulling and fussing and rearranging until the blonde girl was itching to get away. 

"Go on then. Go and shine like the star you are."

 

An hour later Brienne felt buzzed rather than tired, finally taking the advice of her friend and agent to spend a little time talking to the queue of people who waited by the stage door every night. Signing autographs was a daunting prospect but it was a good kind of fear, her eyes occasionally darting from smiling fans to the spot where Jaime and her had _danced_ and bickered, knowing he wouldn't be there but drawn to the memory nevertheless.

Sansa practically jumped on her as Brienne re-entered the building, trembling with excitement like all her Christmases had come at once. "I need to show you something."

Thinking it was costume related, Brienne trailed along but slid to a heart stopping halt as soon as she saw what, or rather whom, had made her friend so animated. Jaime, stupidly gorgeous Jaime, respectful jackass Jaime, was casually leaning against the wall of The Fell's lobby like he belonged there, a modest bouquet of red flowers resting on the table behind him.

"Now, tell me he's not here to see you."


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She had become another voice in his head almost overnight, a fond morality interspersed with seconds of near breathless passion, the like of which he remembered all too well.
> 
> But none of that had forced his hand when put on the spot.
> 
> There was only one reason why he had admitted to Varys, his guest presenter and their army of listeners, that her performances had been some of the best he had witnessed all year, because it was the only truth Jaime knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't thank everyone enough for continuing to read this and leaving such lovely comments! And huge love and thanks to RoseHeart, your suggestions have made this chapter so much better when I was struggling!
> 
> I'm hopefully going to be now posting a new chapter every Monday, although dependent on work that day might become a Sunday or Tuesday in the future. And the rating increase is more for future chapters than this one.
> 
> Thank you again and I hope you like this chapter :)

Jaime hadn't consciously planned on returning to The Fell so soon after his last visit, even if he had spent an unnecessary amount of time over the past few days wondering if simply being in each other's presence again would lead to an equally heated encounter with Brienne. She had become his every second or third thought, beginning as fevered fantasies which turned into softer images as the sun rose.

There was a sense of undeniable contentment running through Jaime as he found himself lingering on the idea of bypassing inevitably awkward interactions to find comfort in the morning after a night spent with Brienne in his bed. He happily imagined her padding around his apartment so that she could softly kiss him good morning, warm and gentle and languid, almost a beauty as the sunrise lapped across the dappled canvas of her skin, long bare legs a distraction within a distraction. His response to her seeking him out was always the same, absentmindedly throwing an arm around her hips, overjoyed that she had stayed the night but needing Brienne closer, always closer. Jaime listened to her grumble, hovering over him as her hand settled on his shoulder, the words blocked out by a series of yawns which seemed to signify how much she would prefer to have him back in bed rather than sitting at his desk working towards his weekly word count. 

But that was where his mind would stutter to a halt. He often wondered why he didn't push that particular fantasy further, why he would instead try to imagine Cersei in the same position, forgoing another bite of forbidden fruit in order to find or feign interest in his work, dropping onto the sofa in his tiny home office with no art or pretence in her tousled curls and lack of clothing. But it was almost inconceivable for Jaime to consider anything so effortlessly domestic from the woman he had loved for so many years, unlike the girl that had taken up residence in his mind.

Though, under the wanting frustration that now seemed to be following him around like a personal storm cloud, Jaime didn't know if having her there permanently, choosing the most inopportune moments to fantastically intrude into his daily life, would be easier to accept than relying on alcohol dependency to push those kind of thoughts away. She had become another voice in his head almost overnight, a fond morality interspersed with seconds of near breathless passion, the like of which he remembered all too well.

But none of that had forced his hand when put on the spot.

There was only one reason why he had admitted to Varys, his guest presenter and their army of listeners, that her performances had been some of the best he had witnessed all year, because it was the only truth Jaime knew. Though it had taken three near sleepless nights, and one enlightening interview, to realise that he was actually starting to miss seeing Brienne in her element. There was a strange thrill in knowing she couldn't always see him watching her, hanging on every syllable if only to stop the pull of vertigo, a different kind of want threatening at thunderstorms of lust.

"Now, tell me he's not here to see you." The voice of the red haired Stark girl cut through the air, having appeared from behind the dusky grey curtains with an opened mouthed Brienne in tow. And for a second he registered her shock to be dismay at his presence. _What makes you think she would actually want to see you again?_ the steady thud of his heart seemed to take on a distinctive sneer, similar to how Cersei had spat at him after months of deceit were finally shown the light of day. _You should have been happy with a kiss, but that was never going to be enough, was it?_

However, before he could fully comprehend what the answer to that particular question would be, an over enthusiastic giggle wriggled a way into his distracted consciousness. Still leaning against the heavily decorated wall, Jaime caught a glimpse of _Sansa?_ sending a wave towards the blushing blonde girl tensely standing en guard, like he had thrown down a gauntlet and was merely waiting for her to pick up the challenge. Sansa whirled away in a pirouette of purple to take up her previous position behind the velvet, a pretty wizard granting exactly what he would have asked for given half a chance.

Jaime smiled slowly, using the lobby wall as leverage to turn and face whatever sentence Brienne was about to hand down. _Come now, curse me or kiss me. Do something_. "I see we're alone at last."

"What..?" Her gaze defied the slight quiver present in the word, meeting his eyes for a second until batting eyelashes pushed her blue pools away to focus on anything safer. "Why..?" Brienne shook her head as if an answer was already forming, taking a stuttering step closer like her feet were no longer under her control. His smile widened, shuffling an equal distance along the wall, a game of cause and effect, pleasantly surprised to find Brienne just as trapped as he was. She visibly swallowed and Jaime nodded for her to continue. "You must have picked the worst possible place to wait."

"And where do you suggest I wait?"

Jaime wasn't sure if it was just his imagination but if the deepening colour moving up her neck and cheeks was anything to go by, the creeping suggestion in his voice hadn't gone unnoticed by Brienne. But where he, and most likely Cersei, would have pushed and played with leading flirtations, the blonde girl presently trembling with nervous energy chose a practicality over anything he would have found enjoyable. "It's just... there's a draft... from the doors."

"Come over here and warm me up then." It was almost too easy to push her buttons, reactionary shades of embarrassment flickering past his eyes, raising her banners, but there was at least some part of him that needed her to make just that kind of move.

"Jaime", she warned, once again showing little hesitation in addressing him by name. He winked like they were sharing a private joke but Brienne only narrowed her beautiful eyes in response. "I'm not sure your date would like that."

"My date?"

"The flowers. They're... very nice. She must be..."

"Standing right in front of me?" Jaime drawled, not really wanting to stop the forward momentum dragging Brienne towards him, as if someone had tied them together and the rope was now being pulled taught, but doing so anyway.

"You brought _me_ flowers?"

Truth be told, he had almost forgotten the half abandoned bouquet, something Tyrion had suggested during their weekly lunch earlier that day. ' _Whoever this girl is, dear brother, let us not forget that she's an actress and a little praise often goes a long way. Pick up some flowers, tell her she's pretty, or talented if you must, and she'll be writhing in your bed within an hour. Tried and tested._ ' "Don't worry, you're not going to offend me if you don't want them."

There was a twitch which seemed to move across her face, making Brienne blink so rapidly he was near hypnotised by the sweep of dark blonde lashes. It probably wasn't supposed to be an intentionally provocative gesture, the jitter of nerves clear, but as she started to nibble at her lips, locking him in her eyes, Jaime couldn't care less if he never learned to distinguish the difference. "It's just... I don't much like roses. I..."

"Are you blind on top of everything else?"

"Excuse me?"

"I assumed even you would be able to tell the difference, since they're carnations not roses."

He watched as the twitch tried to become a smile, a line of concentration setting up home between her eyes, playing with the corners of her bitten lips while his palms started to annoyingly feel a little clammy. Of course it would have been an easy mistake to present her with an armful of blood red roses, thorns and all, especially with his brother's libido as his only source of advice. 

"... Carnations?"

"I interviewed an old acquaintance yesterday. There were some implications about your involvement with a show called The Rose Garden."

"Oh." He certainly didn't just imagine the way her skin blanched, crimson to cream at even the mention of a brief television career Jaime had only just become aware of. "And how was Margaery?"

"I wouldn't have thought you and Margaery Tyrell would have had a lot in common", he mused, ignoring how Brienne was making him all the more sure of his need to kiss her again. "Though it can't have been much different with Renly Baratheon."

The youngest member of the Baratheon dynasty had arrived in town earlier in the week, a flying visit in order to promote his latest movie and facilely hiding behind his teen heartthrob status. Jaime could never be sure whether he was impressed that the man had kept up such an elaborate deception for the better part of a decade, the quiet boyfriend hovering surreptitiously in the background, or if he was disappointed for the very same reason. Although it hadn't been until Jaime had made to leave the hotel conference room that Renly had mentioned Brienne.

"He seemed to be of the opinion that once seen you're not an easy woman to forget."

"Renly was a colleague", she replied calmly. "I haven't spoken to him in a long time, probably not since we wrapped the final episode."

"It's a shame a couple of bad writing decisions ruined what could have been a decent show." Jaime hadn't really meant to say that out loud but his tongue was galloping ahead of his brain, likely caused by the sickening mix of embarrassment and exhilaration over the series of events which had led to the entire collection of Rose Garden episodes being delivered to him in the Arts and Culture section. Renly had kindly sent a messenger over after their post interview conversation had concluded, a short note stating Jaime might find something in them useful, but only succeeding in making him feel like contraband lurked beneath the lid of the unmarked Pandora's box.

"You don't have to be nice to me", Brienne stated, catching his emerald eyes darting from hers to her mouth and back again, worrying at her lip ever so slightly as she mirrored the motion.

"If you were paying attention instead of looking at me like _that_ , you'd realise all I said was that the show had potential, not that it was any good."

He had, coincidentally, sat down the night before to watch her previous incarnation just as Brienne would have been stepping out on stage, not quite ready to make the pilgrimage back to The Fell but liking the connection nevertheless. And as she appeared on his screen, broadcasting into a space she had never witnessed in reality though he had shown it to her in so many dreams, Jaime longed not only to sweep away the hair that kept falling into her eye line, but to take her stupidly freckled face in his hands and try and protect the innocence shining through each and every word. But more than that he wanted her beside him, her regency era breeches and riding boots optional, providing him with the kind of a live commentary he had thought about almost as soon as the discs had arrived. Brienne wasn't much of a wordsmith but Jaime hoped he could have encouraged stories out of her with quips or kisses, finding places that would make her laugh and sigh, parry and attack, spilling truths while they bickered and made out. "Trust me, you'll know when I'm being nice to you."

He wanted to see what changes would occur in her eyes but Brienne focused on the wall behind him, studying abstract patterns in the paper, her voice disappearing in the shrinking space between them. "You're the first person I'm not related to that's brought me anything after a performance", she stole a glance and Jaime took that as permission to start inching forward again, step by step. "Thank you."

 _You wouldn't be thanking me if you knew my brother's intention behind them._ "I did enjoy the episode where you fell into the lake though. How in the seven hells did you manage to do that? It didn't look scripted." He surveyed her as she paused again, half steps becoming all that separated them. "Clumsy girl."

"It's taken me years to almost forget that." Brienne shook her head and it gave him a chance to see the colourful damage his lips and teeth had done to her skin. "It shouldn't have aired."

He took another shuffling step forward, leaving the wall behind while he fought the urge to reach out and touch, dropping his voice to match hers. "I like to think I've got a good imagination but I didn't really need to use it when you climbed out."

"I don't think I would have felt worse even if I'd been naked." Her arms came up to cross over her meagre chest, like she was suddenly talking to him dripping wet or completely nude but still Brienne slid towards him.

"And that would have been an entirely different type of film but", he held up his hands before she could counter, unable to deny that it was far easier to know what to say when they were at each other's throats rather than lips. "They shouldn't have kept the scene if it made you feel that uncomfortable."

"Jaime?"

He could barely hear the throaty whisper that escaped her lips, sounding too much like any one of the blurry dreams that had now cleared to let him watch the sky in her eyes become overwhelmed by need, day to night, feeling her sigh as he guided his aching cock into her tight heat, nearly coming undone as they moaned in unison. " _Jaime_?" Brienne blinked up at him, lain out like a piece of art, her hips exquisitely rolling in an effort to meet each one of his deep thrusts, fingernails running through his hair, encouraging his mouth to meet hers in battle, digging into his shoulders as they found a mutually beneficial rhythm. He groaned as she clenched around him, close but not close enough, his hand slipping between the strong thighs holding him in place to help her along. She gasped his name over and over again as he stroked and fucked her into bliss, a deluge of shivers emphasising her quiet surrender. Her body claimed him as she came, arching up and pulling at his cock, her name becoming the only thing Jaime could, or wanted to, remember as his own climax hit and he spent himself inside her.

"What are you doing here, Jaime?"

 _Shit_ , no matter how well it had worked for Tyrion in the past, he couldn't just fuck her and walk away, repeating past actions so his escalating fascination could turn into a strange kind of torture. And especially not with the way she was looking at him, half wary trepidation, half hopeful respect, a leading lady but still refusing to pick that role when it came to her own life. _Gods, could I be falling in..._ "Come here, Brienne."

"Not until you tell me the truth."

 _The truth? I've been dreaming of you for weeks._ "Seven hells woman, just come here."

He reached for her then, slipping his arms around her waist, letting her settle against him slowly, heart racing so fast he could feel it reverberating through his chest even with their layers of clothing in the way. "What are you doing here, Jaime?" she repeated, her voice a whisper on the air.

He nuzzled into her cheek, pressing a chaste kiss to the warm surface, Brienne letting out the breath she must have been holding. "The last time I checked there wasn't a limit on the number of times I can see any play."

"Why..?" Her hands came up to rest on his shoulders, tensing and relaxing as if meaning to push him away, instead preferring to run her palms down his arms, testing how the muscles felt in her grip, not continuing until he moved or murmured, learning his tells as Jaime tickled freezing fingertips over the thin shirt covering her torso.

"I meant to ask if I feel as good as I look?" he posed, purposely blowing warm air over the nape of her neck, watching the wispy waves too fragile for her messy ponytail tremble in the breeze. He settled his mouth over her throbbing pulse point, tempted to place another mark on the speckled skin, if only to feel her squirm and sigh again, but as Brienne shifted in his arms, he merely inhaled and held her close.

"I'm not going to answer that", Brienne murmured back, her eyes closing as he challenged her keen reactions with another breath. "You're already cocky enough as it is without me adding to it."

"That doesn't mean you're not welcome to try", Jaime laughed huskily, her hands gripping at his elbows as he ghosted a careful touch along the underside of her breast. "Maybe you'd be better at _handling_ me than you think."

"Why..?" she sighed as he moved his hands up and down her rib cage. "Why me?"

"I dream of you."

Brienne brushed against his lips in a fiercely gentle kiss, smiling despite the bold blush suffusing her features as she pulled away to take his hand in hers. "Me too."


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Don't think I'm going to allow you to just stop there." Brienne noticed the mischief growing in Jaime's eyes almost before the embers had fully burst into flame, a forest of mirth coming to life for her. _For me. He's here for me._ Jaime glanced up, all laughing green and gold like a most wanted Christmas present waiting for the perfect moment to be unwrapped, _take off your colours_ , rubbing his thumb in slow suggestive circles over her knuckles. "Why don't you tell me what exactly we were doing in these dreams of yours?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, I must apologise for the delay with this chapter. I got hit with a little bit of writers block and the doubts started creeping in again. Although I must send huge thanks to everyone who has expressed their support for this story, especially my fabulous beta and friend RoseHeart who has been paramount in helping me get this back on schedule. 
> 
> For those of you who haven't noticed, I've increased the chapter number to 12, mainly because the original plan had been extended a little :)
> 
> I've rambled on enough now so without further ado here's chapter 8 and, as a bonus, chapter 9 as well. I really hope it's an enjoyable read.
> 
> Oh and thank you to Ro-Nordman (http://ro-little-shop-of-wonders.tumblr.com) who made this gorgeous banner for this story!
> 
> [](http://s26.photobucket.com/user/grandmummy/media/image-3.jpg.html)

"Don't think I'm going to allow you to just stop there." Brienne noticed the mischief growing in Jaime's eyes almost before the embers had fully burst into flame, a forest of mirth coming to life for her. _For me. He's here for me._ Jaime glanced up, all laughing green and gold like a most wanted Christmas present waiting for the perfect moment to be unwrapped, _take off your colours_ , rubbing his thumb in slow suggestive circles over her knuckles. "Why don't you tell me what exactly we were doing in these dreams of yours?"

"That's not what I said. You... you shouldn't put words in my mouth." She hated the frisson of doubt that danced over her barely covered skin, the light blue striped shirt having been the first thing to hand after she had scrambled out of her costume in record time, even if Jaime was looking at her like she could be something precious, something beloved, something that needed to be savoured.

"I can always put something else in there if you'd prefer." Never taking his eyes off her face, Jaime licked his lips, tasting whatever mark she had left behind in her moment of boldness. A second barrage of shivers the cause of Brienne releasing her grip around his elbow, following an unmarked path back to the relative safety of his shoulder as the sensation spread to all the places he hadn't yet managed to find.

"Jaime." _Tell me what I'm supposed to say._ His words were teasing tendrils that wrapped around the pounding war drum of her heart, the beat calling out every defence she had ever needed to rely on, but the feel of his gently grasping hands eased her back to the present and away from the battle rising in her blood. "You need to..."

"I need to what?" Jaime murmured, his mouth all of a sudden pressed to her ear as if the lobby hadn't been an empty cavern, a forsaken masterpiece of light and shade, his whispers warm with promise. "Come home with you?"

 _Yes._ Brienne suddenly wished she had paid more attention to the chatter of her almost friends, desperately trying to make sense of the sensations being produced by the tip of Jaime's tongue moving over the contours of her ear, humming perfect nonsense as if reminding her to keep breathing. Spun gold strands brushed against her cheek and turned into a temptation she didn't want to resist any longer. Her mind was becoming as clear as the quiet stage, no characters to hide behind now, finding herself unable to speak of the images which had kissed long accepted solitude and slipped into lingering fantasies far easier than she would have ever thought possible. _If I knew you, could I love you?_

"Have you been dreaming about what you would do if I was in your bed?"

 _Yes._ "Jaime." _If you stayed the night, would you still want me in the morning?_

He squeezed her hand again, as gallant as he could be while fluttering kisses along her jaw, splayed fingers across the small of her back betraying the worry that she would run if such an opportunity presented itself. _If this is another dream, please don't wake me yet._ "That's not an answer, Brienne." He broke off to trail tender bruises down her throat, catching every shallowing breath with tokens of his newly realised affection, providing the already present lone star of lust with an entire family of intention. "You've been in mine every fucking night since I first met you."

"Jaime... you've been in my life", she confessed quietly as the arm around her waist tightened in welcome surprise, so close now that barely a breath prevented them from falling hand in hand into the blossoming event horizon, love or lust or a longing to be held taking up root in her bones. 

"Not just in my bed." _I can't get you out of my head._ The intoxicating dreams may have left her beaded with sweat, torn between fantasy and reality, drowning in the dripping pangs of desire between her legs and in need of so much more than a self-induced quick release, but what she wanted from him, from the possibility of _them_ , was still too new for Brienne to know how to properly proceed. 

As if sensing the trepidation building under her skin, desperate to escape and evaporate into the heavy air, Jaime moved infinitesimally. He was already hardening beneath his soft suit from their single kiss and the freedom to feel, two passing ships lost at sea but becoming used to the rolling currents together.

His smile at her breathy admission was near instantaneous and as Jaime lifted his head she felt the trembling response of nervous butterflies in her stomach, giving birth to the fear that she was attempting to run into the burning sunset before either of them could possibly know why. Brienne threaded her fingers through his hair one more time, too gentle, too grating, watching how her stupidly clumsy hand made his eyelids flutter closed, clouds hiding stars, and willed the world to stop turning before she pulled herself away from the sheer want pounding in her veins. _If you can hear me, wake me now._

"I guess that means I won't be the only one hoping your next role doesn't stop me from becoming better acquainted with both your bed and your life then."

*******

Her brow crinkled with confusion, blue eyes lacking any kind of guile, and, not for the first time, Jaime wondered how that glimmer of innocence had survived for so long in a business filled to bursting with the same liars and fakes he encountered on a near daily basis. Brienne habitually pressed her lips together as thought patterns became manifest on her face and, trying to ignore the sudden rush of blood to his half hard cock as she sucked and nibbled along softly chapped surfaces, watched as patterns of freckles flickered into unanswered questions. 

"You know I don't have any intention to leave The Fell."

Jaime shook his head, contemplating how much of a change it would be to his daily routine to wake up every morning in a tangle of limbs, to grow used to having someone sharing his space who wanted to be there for no determinable reason at all. He wondered what it would feel like to not have to rush making love, or hide any kind of affection, because there would be no need to conceal every feeling behind closed doors. "That's fine with me. Your props department should have at least one bed we can try out tonight, although I'm not entirely sure what we would do in..."

"In the morning", she haltingly interrupted and Jaime felt his heart falter at the new contradiction playing out in front of him. She was failing to keep up with him, arrows of admiration finding holes in the walls he knew were being knocked down only for Brienne to pick up the pieces and rebuild closer and closer, but she still couldn't tear herself away. "You don't have to worry about that."

"In the morning", he echoed, musing over pressing the words into her skin while Brienne held herself as still and heavy as a statue less than an arm's length away. Over the years he had been propositioned with all kinds of things, and not only as a means to gain a few good words in print, but it had been longer than Jaime could remember since he had wanted to truly show how his actions could be better relied on than anything that left his mouth in the heat of the moment. He met her gaze and would have assumed she was disappearing inside herself if not for the ragged breath reaching his ears in a quiet hurricane of force. A spark of electricity ran through whatever twist of fate was keeping them locked together, two oceans of colour meeting and merging for an extended eternity, starting a chain reaction of significance. Though even studying the way her entire body seemed to tense and relax, working through pulses of hunger and hate as Brienne considered everything they had offered up to the night in tribute, gave the reckless hand of impatience an opportunity to take a hold of his arousal. 

Breath after breath he fought against his baser instincts to rely on known passion over the sincerity of a possible relationship, the like of which he hadn't attempted before. Jaime thought of Cersei, he thought of Brienne and his head spun in a carousel of feeling. "In the morning, I take you home. Tomorrow night we'll rinse and repeat. Until all we want to do in bed is sleep." _Trust me, Brienne, I don't want us to be a one time thing._

Brienne blushed even as she laughed, the sound little more than a rumble which would not risk the world outside of the safe cage which had produced it, allowing Jaime the chance to shoot her a genuinely surprised lop sided grin. "I've never stayed all night in the theatre before. It's not really allowed."

"Stop the presses", he joked easily, the same intrigue which had perfumed entrances and exits alike rising again, fuelling his growing need for _more_ ; more talking, more touching, more time with her simply being within reach. "Come one, come all and read how the honourable Jaime Lannister was seduced by The Maid of Tarth with the suggestion of voyeurism."

"That's not what I'm trying to do", Brienne chastised softly, her hands stroking careful reassurances down the back of his neck, lips brushing against three day old stubble with every other breath, unaware that even being reminded of how good she smelled was encouraging him up to boiling point. "I don't think."

"You could have fooled me", he stated thickly, the words coating his throat in honey, finding it difficult to swallow while his mind forged recklessly ahead. "But you are more than welcome to touch me anywhere you want."

Her fingers trembled a little as if Brienne was considering doing just that, pausing the movement of her lips to whisper against the corner of his mouth. "Is there a rule I don't know about that forbids you from staying quiet for longer than five seconds?"

"The past forty years would seem to be proof enough of that."

"I bet you even talk in your sleep."

"And that's the most roundabout way I've heard of saying that you want to find out."

She accidentally bumped his chin with her nose, stuttering out an apology when Jaime threw his head back to laugh, the sound groaning into contentment as she took advantage of the granted access to follow the line of his throat with tingling tender touches. He pulled at the expanse of blue and white fabric beneath his palms while she left her mark, inexperience not even mattering when Brienne was a surprisingly quick study, kissing and nibbling and sucking her way down his neck hard enough to make Jaime demand she repeat _everything_. Cold fronts were beginning to collide with warm, her skin shivering to life with the same unseasonal thunderstorms that were rumbling in his head. _Gods, I wish I could spend hours just doing this with you._

"Have you imagined what it would feel like to have me moving inside of you yet? Or is it the idea of my mouth between your thighs that gets you wet?"

"Jaime!?"

"There's nothing to be ashamed of, it's perfectly natural to want to touch yourself while..." Jaime began, though quickly found himself swallowing the sentiment as Brienne conceded the point and simply kissed him, sighing in unison as she broke through the shackling power of nerves to discover that biting into his lower lip made him moan her name. The idea that something a little more familiar would fall past his lips didn't even cross Jaime's mind as her hands slipped from their resting place to find purchase in the collar of his jacket, one sliding beneath the material to skitter possessively across his chest, pulling him flush against her, the show of strength somehow making him harder. 

Jaime had to tilt his head in order to kiss her the way he had wanted to all night, lips and teeth and tongue, throwing the guiding reins away as he stumbled back and hit the lobby wall, becoming overly enamoured with how Brienne wrapped herself around him while he let down her hair and groped at her ass. He thoroughly enjoyed the mumblings that arose from his warm and demanding tongue moving in her mouth, winding straw around his fingers to keep her just _there_ , not bothering to muffle his own sounds of pleasure for once in his life. Instinct led Jaime to slide his hand down the thigh suddenly rising to hook around his own, seeking comforting relief by gracelessly grinding against her. 

To his immense delight, Brienne barely missed a beat, stealing his breath as a low moan escaped from around their competitive clash of lips, her hips slowly rolling into him. Jaime felt about seventeen and she felt amazing, powerfully gentle even as they kissed like they were breaking bridges of friendship they had never really traversed and rebuilding something stronger. If he hadn't been rapidly losing coherent thought, Jaime would have wondered why neither of them had suggested going somewhere a little more private, when it was clear Brienne wanted this as much as he did, but despite weeks of denial her presence had become equally craved by his mind and body alike.

Their duet echoed back at them, decibels louder in a space that more often leant itself to concerts of a completely different nature. _Maybe I will fall in love with her sooner rather than later._ Her grip became crushing as Jaime stroked a single finger over the back of her knee, securing the claim they had unwittingly placed on the other, careful explorations under his suit jacket halting as she came to rest over his racing heart, causing him to burn with the temptation to pull away from her fervent mouth and fill his senses with powder and sweat and _Brienne_ again.

Breaking for air in the same second he did, she gasped as his attention was momentarily directed to the tiny stubborn buttons that so far had refused to pop open in such a public setting. Brienne fisted hair and cotton alike while he worked at them with his mouth, rapidly uncovering new clusters of constellations to guide him across the map of her skin. " _Jaime_." She sighed like a fantasy come to life as he journeyed over peaks and valleys, bone and muscle and breast, all the while keeping him tightly cradled between her denim clad thighs.

"Please tell me you sound like that when you come."

Brienne was as flushed as he had ever seen her, crimson tides of cupidity ebbing and flowing around freckled lifeboats, breathing hard like all the oxygen in the room had burnt up from the sustained ferocity of their kisses. "I..."

"You...?" Jaime teased into her collarbone, understanding implicitly why she looked like she didn't want to stop touching, to stop feeling him moving against her, as if breaking their physical connection would only lead to waking up in equally frustrated beds, having flicked a switch that couldn't be fully turned off without enthusiastically wanted assistance. 

"You need to learn not to interrupt", she muttered halfheartedly, dropping a softly irritated kiss to his forehead _because there's no reason why she can't_. "I know it's late... but do you maybe want to get a drink?"

 _I want to fuck you against this wall. Possibly with my tongue._ "Your place or mine?"

"No." Brienne kissed him again to soften the blow, passing the baton of chaste onto another couple in another time or place now that they both could accept what they truly wanted. "I mean in a bar, like an actual date."

"If you wanted to count, then this could be our third date."

"I don't and this isn't."

 _Opening night, cab ride, lobby_ , Jaime inwardly ticked off each of their decreasingly chance collisions, finding there was nothing in his past that would help with future dating etiquette. He raised an eyebrow and watched Brienne blush deeper at whatever he had released inside her head. _When your name comes out of one of those violet Dayne envelopes, I'll take you to the moon if you want._ "Aren't first dates supposed to come before pinning a guy to the wall and trying to dry hump him into next week?"

Her mouth opened to spit back a retort, but before the words could be found the distinctive voice of Catelyn Stark carried down the stairs from the second floor. "And we're clear."

"I think we need to move", Brienne told him, detangling herself with a tiny noise of dissatisfaction, her voice shaking ever so slightly as if holding back peals of embarrassed giggles. "Now."

*******

It took longer than Brienne was entirely comfortable with for Jaime to remove the casually strewn arm from around her hips, paying more attention to Catelyn completing the final checks of the evening above them than the way his fingers were still searching for elusive slivers of skin.

"Jaime", she fixed him with her sternest look as the voice on the radio crackled out confirmation of closing, his disgruntled growl the fire needed to melt her icy facade, giddy bubbles of anticipation fizzing inside of too tight muscles. "Please."

"Please what?" he taunted, an echo of what could have been, a promise of what could still come to pass. Brienne was slowly coming to appreciate that no dream had truly prepared her for the assurances in his eyes, Jaime crossing his arms and simply _waiting_ for her to do or say something that would take them over an expectant threshold. "What do you want me to do, Brienne?"

"Stop looking like that", she countered, biting into the meat of her cheek as sun kissed strands fell across his face, Jaime merely ducking his head in order to maintain an unrestricted view of her highly dishevelled state. "And come with me?"

"Where did you have in mind?"

"Sansa took my coat. I don't think I'll get very far without it."

"So you want to show me your _un_ dressing room?"

"I didn't mean it like that", she spluttered, their softly shuffling steps starting to sound like footfalls on freshly frozen snow, the imaginary crunch resonating louder than the overexcited heartbeat in her head. _I don't know what I mean with you half the time._ "I can always meet you at the stage door in five minutes if you'd prefer not to be seen..."

"As much as I like that you've finally decided to embrace a little theatre convention, you've already expressed concerns over me freezing tonight", Jaime mused pseudo thoughtfully, stretching his legs but not having to expel any excess energy in order to match her strides. "And I'd hate for your efforts to go to waste."

"My efforts?" Brienne asked, Jaime's elbow brushing against her flank as they disappeared behind one of the shields that kept her suspended in temporary world. It wasn't a second too soon judging by the jangling of Catelyn's keys, and the static produced from the touch, like magnets desperately fighting to come together, made something inside of her skip and start. _How is this awkward and easy all at the same time?_

"You don't seem to have a problem sharing body heat."

Although she didn't catch Jaime's gilded glances, the weight of his stare laid heavy on her heart anyway. Rolling her eyes to the ornate ceiling, she pointed in a business like manner down one of the well trodden paths. "It's just down here on the right hand side."

"What exactly do you do around here for fun?"

"Whatever you want, just don't get lost."

Every now and again the winding warren of secret backstage passages suffused Brienne with a feeling of belonging so strong she believed, with her whole heart, that there could be nowhere else in all of the Seven Kingdoms that would ever make her feel the same way. And now as Jaime slipped his hand into hers, as if they were spending a lazy afternoon walking their dog instead of sneaking down corridors that had witnessed and bolstered her professional growth, Brienne felt like she was shedding light on aspects of her life that only glittered behind the magic of The Fell. The gravity of what she had decided to share with him, all the triumphs and tribulations, the harmony and haste of opening nights, the conception and consummation of carefully laid plans, closed in to leave Brienne suspended in her own heady history.

She felt the connection between her and Jaime grow taught, present and future tenses more important again, silent reminders but no less important than if they had been screamed. Turning to investigate the change, Brienne found Jaime had been transformed into another theatre devotee, stopping for a moment to take in one of the many production pictures that lined the sepia toned walls, all but pressing his nose to the glass as if childishly thinking that closer meant the full spectacle could be better appreciated.

"For someone who knows so little about men, you have a very strange way of showing it."

"What did I not mean to do now?"

"Some of these photos need a disclaimer on them, I didn't think I'd find out secondhand that you had freckles _everywhere_."

Brienne had grown used to the stills over the years, and the initial rush of finding herself side by side with the late, great Brandon and Lyanna Stark had fallen into the abandonment of complacency. Even if superstition had led to her placing a hand over the preserved photo from the Starks' Dream Of Spring performance every night before she went on stage. "Rebellion", she narrated, blushing furiously, the cropped breastplates and leather skirts, which didn't cover nearly enough, recognisable even at a distance.

"Did somebody steal your clothes?" Jaime rested a thumb over the image as if he could touch the past, trailing over the exposed muscles in her abs and thighs. "You look spectacularly unattractive when you're mad."

He left one last lingering touch, smearing the surface and spun around to exasperate her embarrassment with a well aimed smirk. "So is there anything else you think I might want to see on these walls? Gratuitous sex and violence perhaps?"

"For seven's sake, is kissing you really the only way to stop you talking?" Brienne muttered under her breath, though not quietly enough to go unheard.

"Don't make it sound like such a chore sweetling, I'm not sure that would be much of a problem for either of us."

"Jaime."

He reached up to stroke her cheek, as gently carnal as if he'd caressed between her legs, candour camouflaged behind his jokes. Brienne made to bury her burning face in crook of his neck, his palm moving to smooth down her hair, everything feeling more intimate than she was maybe ready for. "Lead on", he rasped. "Though at this rate we'll only arrive at your bar in time for last call."

She sighed, though it had more to do with where his hands were heading rather than the insinuating glint of lost innocence dancing in the air, feeling the steady throb of his pulse against her lips. "I might still have a bottle of champagne in my dressing room if you wanted to leave going out for another night." _Gods, am I doing this right?_

Jaime tugged insistently at the blonde waves dropping lower and lower with each passing minute, urging their bodies into discovering new patterns of movement not ten feet away from where her coat was hanging. His kisses were met with as little insecurity as Brienne could muster, ripples of tender voracity demanding her full attention, amazed at how intuitive each flicking stroke of her tongue had become. He rocked against her, deliberately drawing out the motion as if needing to confirm the consistency of her reactions, though Brienne was coming to the conclusion that her choice had been made days ago.

"I want..."

"... you."


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It's alright", he muttered, fingers and lips attempting to soothe away the unwanted intruders in her head. _It's alright, you're alright_. "The theatre has gone dark and we've been a little preoccupied", Jaime crawled down her body, only breaking eye contact long enough to press hard kisses along the skin and muscle that had been made visible by their dancing. "What with all of the writhing and moaning."

They flew through her dressing room door a heartbeat later like it had never existed, as if it was an abstract theory neither of them could understand, Brienne huffing out a laughing protest as they stumbled and Jaime landed flush on top of her. 

With the echoes of their shared sentiments still reverberating through her, Jaime's reflexes remained lightning quick, his hand slipping into the decreasing gap between her head and the floor, finding a gentle cradle waiting for her instead of the smack of concussion. A strange sense of gratitude formed on her tongue, the power of his smile flavouring self reliance with a delicacy that felt out of place, pushing away unworthy words with his suit jacket as Jaime tried, in vain, to decipher the thoughts he was tangled up in.

_I think I'm falling for you_ , Brienne considered wistfully, finding the green in his eyes was disappearing as desire descended down into darkness. There was little panic or vulnerability to be found in her blood anymore, even whilst lying under the crushing, stifling heat of his body. She was strangely reminded of near misspent summers working on her craft in Sunspear, the air so thick that each inhale was like crawling through treacle swamps, the smell of sweat and sex a constant companion. 

Cushioned by the worn carpet beneath her, she quickly discovered kissing came easier than breathing, Jaime shuffling fluidly to his elbows while her fingertips ran over the work of whichever artist or god had sculpted the perfect lines of his face. Though Brienne had experienced but a handful of moments that could act as any kind of comparison, her long limbs still crept around him like primal poison ivy, intensifying the wanted contact, shoulder to waist to hip. 

Whatever her mind was failing to understand, her body didn't seem to be having the same problem. Brienne buoyantly became the rise to Jaime's fall, neck arching and muscles tightening, biting her lip as their rhythmic movements pushed his clear arousal closer to the emerging ache between her legs, the echoing sensation in her stomach causing her to feel overdressed for the occasion.

"If you feel the need to say anything right about now, please don't let me stop you", Jaime demurred a little breathlessly, ghosting kisses across her cheek, following flaming freckles in order to nip at the soft skin behind her ear, laying down a challenge for Brienne to open eyes she couldn't remember closing. "I can't say fucking a silent sister has ever held much of an appeal."

"You're..." his teeth teased over the softness of her ear lobe, pulling and suckling her to a stuttering stop in long alternate pulses. "We're..." she mumbled, sliding her knee higher up Jaime's side, silently thanking Sansa for introducing her to stretchy, skinny jeans, wandering hands unwittingly coaxing him into a series of thrusting caresses, his actions easily charming her up to a writhing simmer. "Gods, Jaime... we're wearing too many... clothes for _that_."

"I was wondering when you were going to notice", he groaned, each surge of motion causing Jaime to rub his cheek against hers, burning the softer skin tenderly. Brienne felt the sound vibrate through his chest as an army of goosebumps rose in protest and marched down her spine, swords drawn and shields up, opposing the idea that he couldn't be touching her everywhere simultaneously. "I've been trying to undress you for the last ten minutes but", he let out a heavy breath that was somewhere between a laugh and another groan. "I thought you might like to be behind a closed door first."

Brienne tensed as coherence momentarily rushed back, laughing in all of the voices she had tried to forget. _What am I doing?_

"It's alright", he muttered, fingers and lips attempting to soothe away the unwanted intruders in her head. _It's alright, you're alright_. "The theatre has gone dark and we've been a little preoccupied." Jaime crawled down her body, only breaking eye contact long enough to press hard kisses along the skin and muscle that had been made visible by their dancing. "What with all of the writhing and moaning."

"I have not been... moaning."

" _Jaime_ ", he teased, blowing his name over the dip of her navel, his breath inking her skin with intent, determinedly kicking her production poster covered door shut. " _Please_." Brienne shivered, her dignity disappearing over an arching spectrum of colour, and he smiled into the twitch of her stomach. "If I tasted you right now, would you be as wet as I am hard?"

"Jaime." A note of scandal remained in the breath that left from her body, though it was her hand that took flight, rising from the floor to gently rest on his shoulder. Jaime turned his head and distracted himself with worrying along the delicate skin of her wrist, finding a handhold over her hip as he rocked up to his knees, as if needing a better view to watch Brienne slowly unravel, her spine being drawn by an unseen archer and driving her pelvis forward to seek out wanted friction. There was no grace in the way Jaime pressed against her, the new angle awkward for them both, muttering her name as he moved to cover her body again, sliding his arms around her waist and heaving Brienne up into his lap, somehow fitting together perfectly.

"I'm heavy."

"I know, but I already told you I'm strong enough."

There was nothing but pure need left when his lips fell against hers and Brienne tried not to consider that whatever tomorrow brought, one more or no more nights with her hands reverently memorising the muscles of his chest and back as Jaime's fumbled with the button of her jeans, she would still be left as an illustrated tapestry of lust, bruises fading back to pale, holding on to whatever remained of him for as long as possible.

"You're thinking too much", Jaime rebuked unsteadily, irises contracted down to a thin ring of green, feeling a pang in her heart at the growing familiarity of watching him stare up at her, stroking along her stomach and slowly sliding lower. "Why don't we see if I can't do something about that?" Pressing his thumb to the traitorously damp patch of cloth between her legs, he elicited a lone shaky inhale from Brienne as she tried to work through the intensity of his movement.

"Better?" he breathed, rocking his touch slowly from side to side, briefly brushing over her swollen clit, though not staying long enough in any one place to do much more than cause the ache to become close to painful. Brienne tried to rub her thighs together, urging him to go beyond simply teasing, showing strength in muscles that had rarely been used for that particular purpose.

" _Jaime_."

" _Brienne_ ", he hummed against her lips. "Do you imagine me every time you touch yourself now?" Jaime moved his mouth down her neck, dragging his tongue over her collarbone, idly stroking her through the slowly saturating barrier. Blindly, torn between slapping away his questions and telling Jaime the whole truth, she started to unbutton everything within reach, inch by inch exposing golden and freckled skin alike. He huffed into the rising warmth, shrugging out of his shirt as hers hit the floor, nuzzling cream straps off her shoulders, tickling sensitivities against his chin and lips.

Her breasts were beginning to tingle impatiently and in a moment of boldness she would probably later regret, Brienne arched her back to unhook the final piece of clothing keeping them covered, pulling a groan from Jaime while she unconsciously ground against his hand. She flung her bra across the room, only to dissolve into hiccuping laughter as it hung on the corner of her dressing table mirror for a second before dropping into the waste paper bin underneath.

"Basketball, right?" Jaime laughed with her, an arm around her back holding her steady while his lips continued to press against her skin, swirling and suckling at the newly exposed flesh, sealing his mouth around a pebbling nipple.

"High... school."

"I bet you were a foot taller than all the boys."

His tongue swirled between the words, each touch sending a new surge of desire through her, feeling arousal pool and run slickly along the soft folds Jaime had only just begun to stroke without the hindrance of her underwear in the way. " _Yes_."

"Have you stopped thinking yet?"

"I don't... " _I don't know how to_. Jaime stopped her mid sentence, sweeping in an excruciatingly slow glide over her entrance, appreciation falling past his lips at finding her so willing so soon, _you left me like this the other night_ , waiting until Brienne mewled out an incoherent plea before moving back to diligently circle over the heartbeat starting to throb at her clit. " _Yes_."

"Thank the fucking gods", he exhaled into her open mouth, sharing every uneven breath like they were trying to bring the other back to life, her hips beginning to buck despite wanting to prolong the feeling he was pulling from her with each steady, curling thrust of his fingers. Even the gentle pressure of his thumb, as if Jaime already knew where to touch simply from watching and waiting, couldn't quite prevent a single keening note of anxiety to colour her throaty moans.

" _Jaime_." Brienne kept stroking his hair to the same rhythm he was stroking her, a fine sheen of sweat settling over her skin as an accompaniment to the first sparks of her oncoming orgasm, making her feel happily intoxicated even though the Christmas champagne remained corked. " _Jaime_."

"That's it, just relax... _fuck_ , it'll come." Jaime shuddered under her tentatively exploring free hand, running through the pelt of silver and gold fur covering his chest, rolling over the hardened peaks of his nipples and dipping lower, the weight of his desire now lying so heavy between them that even her carefully awkward attempts at palming his erection through too many layers of clothing produced a string of curses. 

"It may have been better if you'd held onto that thought for another minute", he pushed himself into her well placed hand as his sped up, causing her to clench around his fingers, a song of satisfaction playing over her neck and breasts while Jaime tried to savour the taste of every single freckle being served up to him. "But you need to keep... talking... to me, Brienne."

She finished with a muffled whimper as the final syllable of her name careened passionately down her spine, long held habits making her bite her lip bloody while the climax shattered through any remaining thoughts, glass walls tumbling down, Jaime holding on for the ride until the waves of sensation had crashed through muscles no longer itching with the anticipation of release.

" _Gods_ ", Jaime spun a final circle while she won the fight for her breath, nestling her closer into his solid chest as he brought his slick fingers to his mouth and lasciviously licked each one clean, murmuring around them like she was a banquet all to herself. "That was beautiful."

Brienne swallowed, finding that as she rested her head on Jaime's shoulder her thighs were no longer prepared to support her weight. _I'm not beautiful, but I could be happy._

"I would ask if you had a cigarette but you're much too pure to smoke."

"What?"

"You look like you might need one."

What she needed was to lie down, to go home to digest, to do this again until she couldn't remember her own name, to feel more than his fingers inside her, to fall asleep with Jaime wrapped around her, sweaty and satisfied, to wake up and know that he hadn't decided she was just a one night stand after all.

"Jaime."

"I know." Brushing damp tangles of hair out of her eyes, Jaime kissed her forehead with the same intense yearning that was still running like a herd of wild horses in her blood. Two pairs of hands began to tug at her jeans and underwear until they finally surrendered their closely guarded territory, Jaime needing little help to scramble out of his remaining clothes, material hitting the floor like quietly rustling fireworks. 

"I want you too, Brienne."

No sooner had she stretched out beneath him and closed her eyes, Jaime's hand was back on her face, moulding to her jaw, his skin radiating warmth everywhere it touched hers. His cock was hot and hard pressed against her stomach, his voice reduced to a growling, demanding whisper. "Just don't hide from me."

Brienne nodded, _you're seeing all that I am, what else do I have to hide?_ , reaching down to run her fingers along his length, wanting to learn. Rubbing languid circles over the head of his cock, a mirror to his earlier touches, Jaime slid his palm over her cheek and into her hair, hips beginning to move again, devouring her mouth as she spread escaping drops of liquid base to tip, squeezing softly before the noises in her ear became too loud to ignore. "If you want this to end this now, you're certainly heading in the right direction."

"Oh..." Brienne felt him twitch in her hand, a blush and a thrust betraying how close he was to the edge. "In the bottom drawer of my dressing table, Sansa took me to a bachelorette party last month, I... didn't think... I'd need to use them."

They took a second's pause to really look at the other, gold and pink and cream, blue and green, wanting. "With me?"

"With anyone. I... I haven't had a boyfriend since drama school."

Jaime smiled, half way to his feet but leaning down for the kind of kiss she had only ever read about, the slow burn at odds with the desperate press of their bodies. "I haven't had sex in a long time either."

Wrapping her arms around herself, Brienne rolled on to her side and watched Jaime stride purposely across the room, feeling equally cold and shy despite everything that was yet to come. _With your face and ass you must have had plenty of offers._

As he turned back, protected and protective, his smile was like the slow dawning of spring at catching her lying curled up. "I'm pretty sure I now know what you have to offer, covering up doesn't change where my mouth and fingers have been and where my cock still wants to go." Jaime held out a hand, a gallant knight to a fair maiden, though his words and her face meant they were neither. "Come here, Brienne."

_I can't possibly be worth waiting for._ "Come here, Jaime."

"Brienne."

"Jaime." _That table is not going to hold my weight._

His mouth was back on hers before she had time to take more than a single breath, restless hands running along the keys of her ribcage, unleashing the kind of noise that she never imagined she could make as Jaime gripped into the soft swell of her hips and pulled her closer. His lips moved like quicksilver in a direct response to how she instinctively bent her legs and lifted her hips, his cock teasing along her swollen flesh.

The hand cupping her hip slid up, coming to rest between her shoulder blades before Jaime took himself in the other and pushed forward, pushing ever so slightly into her, making them both groan. "Remember what I said about talking to me?"

"Yes." _It's ok, you're ok._ "I'm ok."

"You're better than ok, Brienne, you don't get to see yourself on stage night after night."

Brienne didn't get to question the ragged reverence in his tone as Jaime's slow thrusts began to feel like a discovery of sensation that couldn't be explained, forgoing his self confessed need to watch and listen in favour of kissing any words she could have formed straight across the Narrow Sea. His hand moved back into her hair, shoulder muscles rolling beneath her palm as they moved to an unheard accelerating beat together. 

There was no way to tell how long they'd been wrapped up in each other before Jaime's movements started to stutter, the idea of time lost to the rise propelling them forward, sweat merely another colour to their coupling, her ankles digging into the small of his back with each advancing thrust of his hips and stroke of his fingers.

"Jaime." _It's ok, we're ok_. 

He groaned something that could have been a name, a declaration, an oath to break or keep, and settled his mouth over her already marked pulse point, waiting the second it took for Brienne to blissfully moan against his ear before shuddering to a satisfied halt in the cradle of her twitching thighs.

She was half asleep by the time Jaime had recovered enough to pull out and away, lying side by side until she made the move to cuddle into him, lowered inhibitions putting Brienne n the dangerous position of almost admitting how hard she was falling, though his familiar mocking filled the barely comfortable silence first.

"Do you often sleep on the floor then?"

"Hmmmmm?"

"It's proved to be more than fine for fucking, but if we're going to _sleep_ together I suggest we find something a little softer."

"I've only got a tiny sofa."

"It'll do."

There was hardly enough room for Brienne on her own when she took occasional afternoon naps on the piece of furniture hidden from prying eyes, so far under the alcove that it was half in the designated wardrobe space, but Jaime didn't seem to care. Sliding an arm under her knees, the other around her back, he ignored her earlier warnings and carefully lifted Brienne off the floor.

"You don't have to do this... I can walk."

"Really? Maybe next time you need to not fall asleep on me so I can believe that."

_Next time?_ "There you go trying to exceed my expectations again." Happily sated exhaustion had banished her fears back to the edges of her consciousness, though not far enough away to prevent Brienne from gently wincing as the words escaped to be swallowed up by Jaime's skin.

Surprisingly, only the merest hint of laughter remained in his tone. "You know, I wouldn't be opposed to you carrying me to bed the next time we give this a go."

Brienne yawned, her eyelids instigating the need to draw the day to a close. "Yes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Hopefully now I'm at this point I can get back to a more regular posting schedule.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was little surprise that Jaime was the first to wake the morning after passion and desire had finally accelerated past common sense, the blonde girl by his side still slumbering on like an ironically named sleeping beauty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this took a lot longer to update then I planned! For anyone who is still reading, please accept my apologies for not keeping on top of this story better. I can't promise that the last two chapters will be written quickly, but I can promise that I won't leave this story unfinished!
> 
> Quite a lot has changed in my life over the past year, but one of the things that has stayed the same has been the constant love, support and friendship provided by the wonderful RoseHeart. I really don't have the words to describe how truly blessed I am to have found such a kind and kindred spirit, but I am so grateful for her being there for me through everything.
> 
> I also must say a huge THANK YOU to almostabeauty and Elfogadunk , who have been so supportive of this story. Their messages and comments on Tumblr have made me smile and gave me motivation when I doubted I could go on. 
> 
> I truly hope this is enjoyable and won't be a let down after such a long wait. Thank you! :)

There was little surprise that Jaime was the first to wake the morning after passion and desire had finally accelerated past common sense, the blonde girl by his side still slumbering on like an ironically named sleeping beauty. Though Brienne's heavy eyed concerns about her softly generic sofa hadn't been an exaggeration of the truth, he'd found that the unneeded excuse to hold her close produced a string of quietly contended murmurs so appealing that the decision to go home together, come the harsh light of day, was made long before Jaime cushioned his head against her shoulder and fell asleep. But beyond the rising need to make love to her again, slowly enough to notice the very second Brienne dropped her comfort blanket of insecurity and accept that she was absolutely wanted by him, was the frightening need to share parts of his life so few had been allowed close enough to witness.

Tremors of consciousness were starting to trickle through Brienne’s muscles as he committed every inch of ferocious fragility to memory, her tiny movements signalling the rapid approach of new terms to be added to a peace treaty barely brokered. It took nothing more than a kiss pressed to a place he had yet to explore to break the spell, though Jaime could have lain there all morning, basking in the warmth provided by freckled skin and the blue on blue quilt he had found half hidden amongst Brienne's things.

 _"Jaime_ ," she exhaled, languorously beginning to stretch and unfurl like one of the first brave buds of spring desperate to greet the sun, coming close to a moan that did nothing to soften his captivated cock. He moved to help her wake, every murmur leaving her fervent lips guiding him forwards, the fragmented flurries of freckles knocked away as she unfolded, only to be nuzzled and kissed into satisfaction instead. "Jaime."

He couldn't help but tighten his grip as instinct, or fascination, caused her hips to gravitate into his, happy to ride out the last clutches of sleep wrapped up together. Attempting to soothe some of the boldly broken colours he'd suckled into existence mere hours earlier, Jaime rubbed his nose over the long column of her neck, muffling his own noises as hers became louder in the process. But still a rumbling groan rose in his throat and thickened the air with a sudden symphony of longing, forcing Brienne to answer the call of fluttering eyelids and open her extraordinary eyes.

"Well," he purred in her ear as forgotten inhibitions rushed to fill the spaces they had left behind and Brienne tensed, winding her arms around herself before carefully studying him out of the corner of her eye, half caught up in a dream. "That's got to be the nicest 'good morning' I've had in a long time."

"Jaime?" she rasped, confusion rather than accusation fuelling the questioning tone. She took a hold of the quilt and shifted slightly in order to get a better look, her responding blink and blush affecting his heart just as much as his cock.

 _You call out for me in your sleep but can't believe that there's nowhere else I'd rather be right now?_ "Were you expecting someone else?" 

"No. I just didn't think you'd still..." Feeling unable to watch Brienne dust herself off and crawl towards an awkward explanation, now that she had welcomed him inside her walls, Jaime slid his palm under her cheek and turned her head, trying to tame whatever fear or insecurity had been left to linger by unworthy drama school lovers. "You didn't have to stay."

"And miss seeing you like this again?" he murmured, desperately out of his depth when it came to the art of comfort. He strained to sketch circles over her temple as if the touch could calm her treacherously terrified thoughts, stroking through her hair and pulling her lips to his in spite of the awkward angle. "Out there your talent will win awards, but when it's just you and me, you've never acted as anyone but yourself. I want you."

It only took a second for his confession to be vindicated, her slow smile sweeter than the hinting honeyed caress in the air before the seasons changed, winter to spring. Clumsily, they rearranged their constricted limbs, laughter tickling along every deliberate brush of skin on skin, finally finding themselves in a better position to take advantage of what little space there was and start learning how to touch each other all over again.

"I'm not going to intrude on your weekend plans, am I?" Jaime joked as a returning glimmer of anxiety coloured her cheeks in a familiar shade. Any doubts he could have fallen back on to, from his time with another in demand actress, were quickly comforted by the weight of Brienne's thigh strewn over his hip, stretching out as they traded lovingly lazy kisses to draw lines of declaration down her spine, his erect cock trapped between them.

"Sansa's supposed to call about a costume fitting later," Brienne spoke into the crook of his neck, impatiently overheating skin shivering with excitement as her hands embarked on their own voyage of diffident discovery. "And I have to make an appearance at The Fell's Youth Theatre Group at some point, but I-I..." she stammered to a suspicious standstill, lifting her head as if trying to find a better position in order to judge his reaction to her coming suggestion, reading him with just as much care as Jaime guessed she would do with a new script.

"You?" he prompted, feeling unable to stop the smile spreading across his face. He watched as Brienne opened her mouth to parry the challenge, taking and losing ground with nothing more than an arching eyebrow and a swallowed smirk. Words went missing in action while habit pressed her lips together, Jaime coming to find the gesture strangely delicate for somebody so lacking in an understanding of grace. "If you're trying to ask for a repeat of last night," he began, playing arrogance against humility. "We could always continue this back at my place. Slowly. In an actual bed."

She frowned. "Jaime."

"We can grab some breakfast on the way too, if you're hungry for more than just my cock."

Her frown deepened and his heart dropped, her roving hands slowing to a complete stop. "Haven't we reached the part where you're supposed to tell me how much fun this was, take my number, and then never call?"

"'Fun' wouldn't be the first word I'd pick." Despite the sun waking with them, all the sweet words in his repertoire could not make up for years of abandonment. He understood that feeling well enough, but, unlike Brienne, finding faith in second thoughts wasn't really in his repertoire. Dipping his head, he moved to taste the blush beginning to bloom across her chest before Brienne could utter anything more than the breathiest of sighs, tiny noises in the back of her throat forcing him to roll his hips in order to alleviate tightening tension. "'Fun' doesn't slip out of my arms in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, only to come back and spoon," he murmured, as his eyes and mouth and hands feasted on her exposed flesh. "'Fun' isn't still lying here with her leg around me as she tries not to think about what my apartment looks like. 'Fun' isn't already wet at the thought of how many rounds we could get through on this minuscule sofa after I see you perform."

As if to emphasise his point, Jaime smoothly slid his hand up the tremulous, toned, muscles of her thigh and over the curve of her ass, pulling Brienne even closer so that he could stroke the plump softness lurking between her legs without upsetting the delicate balance they had found in the too small space. Though it quickly became clear she was long past the point of needing to be teased, he smiled against her temple as the tips of his fingers traced over sensitivities he’d already near committed to memory, listening to Brienne hiss and moan her pleasure into his ear.

“Jaime,” she clutched at his shoulder the moment arousal induced impatience overpowered the sweetness of their languid explorations, the bite of her nails making him answer the satisfied groan that left her lips at the feel of his fingers finally slipping inside her with one of his own. The recently emerged winter sun had done nothing to reduce the level of his exclaims, but he would have been a fool not to notice how much quieter Brienne seemed now that the dark had retreated, the rising of a different kind of curtain awakening something habitual and self-protecting despite his best efforts.

“If you don’t talk to me, I can’t tell if it’s the touching or the talking that turns you on more,” he replied, inelegantly tightening his other arm around Brienne’s broad back as he started to soothe a path down her spine to the same rhythm he was circling and curling his fingers further down her body. “Which is a shame, because if you like my mouth now, just wait until I fuck you with my tongue.”

Jaime heard her breath catch, felt the brush of her hair against his cheek, her weighty exhale caressing the glow covering his skin as she murmured a wantonly wordless agreement. “Brienne?”

“I like…I like that it’s _you_ who’s touching me,” she whispered after a beat. Her fingers abandoned the tension at his shoulder to wrap around his bicep instead, encouraging him to thrust into her harder. Pulling back ever so slightly, Jaime watched her blush while he ground himself against the taut muscles along her stomach, her wide eyes and unconsciously flickering tongue making him ache. “I mean, I-I like you.”

He matched the shy smile twitching at the corner of her mouth without even thinking, moving to gently kiss the perfect pattern of freckles spread over the rosy bloom of her cheek. Lovingly tasting each one, Jaime began to follow the speckled current that flowed along her jawline and back up to where they disappeared into her hair, still too enamoured with hearing Brienne sigh his name to stop teasing for long. “And what would you like me to do next?”

“Just…” Jaime assumed he’d have to encourage it out of her like before, abandoning his current plan of attack to press a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the column of her throat. But before his lips could touch her skin, Brienne was tripping over her words again. “You have me. You don’t have to try so hard.”

“I’m not trying anything,” he insisted, taking her ear lobe between his teeth as he circled his hips again. “And everything about you makes me hard.”

“So taking you out for dinner is going to be…”

“Interesting.” He took a deep breath, a nervous fluttering finding a new home in his gut. “I’m actually covering the opening of a new Wildling art exhibit at The Wall on Monday night, if you wanted to come with me.” It was a novel experience for Jaime to ask such a question, wanting and hoping for the chance to share himself, and he had to swallow the unwanted sentiment rising up his throat a few times as her eyelashes swept over his skin in a shocked but steady beating rhythm.

“There’s no show on Monday,” came her reply, the sound disappearing beneath the smile in her voice that was almost edible.

“I know. So, if you don't want to be seen in public with me just yet, you're going to have come up with another excuse."

"Don't be stupid," Brienne huffed, slapping away his attempt at self-deprecation with a gentle palm. "As long as you promise not to drag me off into every dark corner to make out..."

"Well, maybe not every corner," Jaime agreed, meeting her downturned lips and relishing how quickly and eagerly her tongue was soon dancing alongside his own, her teeth catching his lips as he pushed her closer to the edge. "But," he panted, allowing her to be the one that chased his movements, kissing around syllables and sighs. "Are you sure that it's not going to be the other way around?"

"I'm positive I… _gods_ …can keep my hands to myself for a couple of hours."

"And your eyes?" he laughed, impulsively pushing into the contradictory hand that had timidly tiptoed between their closer than close bodies to offer his cock some comfort. The fingers behind his head began to dig and drag through his hair as he continued to tease her in return, neither motion making him want Brienne to believe she ever had to dampen down her desire.

"I'll-I'll try not to stare," she stuttered and swallowed and squeezed. "Can I meet you there, though? Goodwin, my...agent, has me booked in for a sunrise shoot with Syrio Forrel and the flight from Braavos doesn't get back until mid-afternoon." She pulled a face that did nothing to improve the little beauty she possessed, though he still drank it all in, her expression that of an unapologetically unimpressed child. "It's supposed to be good for my career, getting my f-face out there."

"They're going to….love you.”

“Jaime, I don’t need you to lie…” she gasped as he removed his fingers and rolled Brienne onto her back. It broke her chain of thought, to mutual benefit if the continuing contended murmurs that reached his ears and set his cock twitching were anything to go by. Caught in the heat of his lust, Jaime forgot, for a moment, her need to parry every one of his attacks as Brienne squirmed and tightened her grip around his shoulders and hips. It seemed she too had forgotten that they were curled on a sofa, rather than stretched out in a bed, as a draught of cool air hit his bare ass and they were both unceremoniously deposited back onto the same floor they’d made love on the previous night.

She landed on top of him with a grunt of disgruntled discomfort, the notes of anxiety and alarm in the air reverberating through skin and muscle and bone as her arms remained protectively locked around his head and shoulders, their noses brushing and breath mingling. “If you wanted to be on top,” he joked weakly, stealing another kiss while Brienne’s eyes grew wide with unspoken apologies. “All you had to do was ask.”

“That…” she blushed, sitting up and dropping her gaze to take in the muscles of his chest and abdomen for a mouth wateringly good moment, even as modesty demanded she clutch at the quilt tangled around her torso. “That…” Her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth as he gave in to his baser instincts and ran his hands up her thighs, grinning and stretching and bucking beneath the shadow of her body, encouraging Brienne to shed the last of her shyness like she’d peeled off her clothes. “W-won’t be necessary.”

Later, he would wonder if she turned down repeat glasses of champagne at awards ceremonies or excessive perks during contract negotiations in the same tone. But in that moment he could only lament the loss of her warmth as Brienne clumsily gathered herself up and left him to cool off, picking up pieces of discarded clothing as she made her way across the room on legs as unsteady as those of a new born foal. “If you’re thinking what I’m thinking, I’ll forgive you for being such a tease this morning.”

“I’m a tease?” she spluttered, blinking down at him from over her shoulder. "I'm not the one making an old carpet look so good it should be in the Westerosi Museum of Classical Art."

"I've been called many things in my life, sweetheart," Jaime drawled from where he was still sprawled across the floor. "But I think that's the first time anyone's referred to me as an antique."

Brienne rolled her eyes, arms folding across her covered chest as she hesitated for a less than a heartbeat before turning back the way she had come, every step screaming of the pride and power she brought to her royal role night after night. Fixating on the freckles framing her face, rather than those that trailed along the muscular indent of her legs, like cinnamon sprinkles on whipped cream, Jaime watched as her lips pressed together in an awkwardly apprehensive line, his gaze sweeping over her scarlet suffused skin. "You know that's not what I meant," she retorted, stubbornness and strength at odds with the whispering of hidden questions, reminding Jaime of how much they still had to learn about each other.

"No," he laughed. He successfully pushed away everything but how much enjoyment there was in the challenge Brienne was posing, as well as the unhurried, unobstructed view he was being allowed to take in. "I don't think I do know what you meant. Please explain."

"You're cocky-" she swallowed as he deliberately stretched his each and every muscle, his body affecting her as much as hers had already influenced him. Bringing the tease to a close, Jaime rested his head on his hands and flexed his biceps, making sure her astonishing eyes stayed away from his own for longer than she would probably deem appropriate. "S-self-assured enough as it is, without my help. And don’t…don’t call me ‘sweetheart’."

He ignored that last remark, for now, still too needy to wonder when such a term would be accepted as more than an easy jape. "But you've been so good at _helping_. Both me and my cock."

Wrapping the quilt tighter around her torso as she continued to stare down at him without a hint of guile or false modesty, Brienne sighed his name in an exhale of exasperation, opening and closing her mouth twice, before deciding to offer him her hand instead. “Let’s get you up from there before you…you freeze and I have to explain w-why Jaime Lannister, of all people, is naked in my dressing room this early in the morning.”

“I would think that _that_ would be obvious to anyone who could see how good you look right now,” he replied with another grin he had little control over. Idly, he started to scratch at the stubble sprouting along his jaw as the patterns that danced up her thick neck and swirled across her cheeks were forced to retreat even further back behind her blush. “And if you’re so concerned about my wellbeing, sweetheart, why don’t you come down here and keep me warm? As you’ve already noticed, I’ve been up for a while now.”

To his surprise, and great delight, Brienne’s furrowing forehead smoothed as a slow smile broke through her uncertainty like a break in the clouds on an overcast day. "So does this...us," she began, whispering the final word as if it was something precious and saying it any louder would scare it away. "Mean I'm going to have to become more of a morning person?"

"It would come with some excellent perks. And I'm not just talking about my extensive knowledge of this city's love of all day breakfasts."

He winked and Brienne huffed out an almost silent laugh in response, the girlish giggle that threatened to follow being stifled at the last possible second, though her eyes still sparkled with uncontrolled mirth. "Plus, when you meet the right casting director and have to limit your theatre work, you won't mind the 4am start so much if you've been eased into it. Ecstatically."

"I'm not giving up the theatre," she reiterated, yawning almost on cue, the blanket slipping down around her shoulders as she reached up to cover her mouth. "But I-I think I could be...persuaded," her gaze drifted around the room, lingering on the imprint of their bodies still denting her sofa cushions, sweeping over each piece of furniture while her words ran together into near nonsense. "To maybe spend the occasional night in the city afterwards?"

"Could you now?" Jaime asked, rising to his knees in front of her, wrapping his arms around her hips and pressing his forehead to her stomach, Brienne's gasp shivering down his spine. "Maybe I could be persuaded to spend a little more time in the suburbs."

"If I didn't know better," she murmured, her fingers ghosting over his shoulder on their way to thread soothingly through his hair, lust turning to the kind of tenderness Jaime didn't have a name for. Though he couldn't miss the opportunity to place a reverent kiss to the firm flesh quivering in his eye line, Brienne clutching and pulling at golden tresses as he teased. "I would think...you...crap. Is that your phone?"

He'd been so focused on the woman hovering over him that Jaime hadn't taken any notice of the tinny sound coming from the vague direction of their abandoned clothes. "I'm off the clock," he promised, thinking that it was too early for Tyrion to be calling, though Selmy wouldn't have balked at contacting him even in the small hours of the morning, if some vital story had broken and there was no one else around to assist. "They can leave a message and I'll get back to them later."

"Jaime."

"You're not going to be satisfied until I check that someone hasn't died, are you?" he joked, rocking back onto his haunches with a sigh. Casting a glance up, her pupils just beginning to dilate in the half light, Jaime held her gaze for as long as he could, unlocking his tiny cell phone and letting lose a string of expletives at the text his editor had bluntly left behind.

"What?"

 _Shit_. "Oberyn Martell." Brienne looked across at him blankly, an eyebrow quirking in question. "He died last night."

"That's not funny, Jaime."

"It wasn't supposed to be." He quickly scanned the rest of the message, inwardly cursing its ever increasing demands for him to drop everything and get on the next plane to Sunspear so that families could be interviewed, features could be arranged, favours could be repaid.

It had been more than half a dozen years since Jaime had written anything fancier than weekly musings on the future of theatre, but once upon a time, his talents had been in demand with starlets and action heroes alike, Oberyn and his hot-headed daughters included. One was now a stunt co-ordinator, another showing up regularly half-dressed on the cover of magazines, and the younger ones now stars of their own children's show.

"They're reporting it as an accident, something to do with the new Mountain club in the capital, but who knows with Martell. With all the gossip that followed him around, the tabloids are going to have a fucking field day."

"But you're not like that. Your paper isn't like that."

"We're all vultures when it comes to something like this. I'm supposed to be on the next flight out of here."

Brienne smiled again, understanding mixed with a tinge of sadness. "I think we better get dressed then."

Jaime nodded, seeing the bubble that had protected them from the realities of their demanding lives burst before his eyes. “Walk me out?” Her eyes flashed for a second, a glimmer of something he couldn’t place, before her walls rebuilt and he was left to continue their verbal sparring on his own. “I wasn’t paying any attention to all those winding corridors when you dragged me in here last night. Especially not after you started rubbing up against me.”

“I…”

“Wouldn’t want you to get lost,” he interrupted boldly, catching the shirt she had thrown at him with one hand, her eyes narrowing as she scooped an armful of clean clothes and stumbled towards the bathroom, giving him the privacy he needed to reply to Selmy, call a cab and calm down. He could have stayed, pretended he hadn’t seen the story, saved himself the trouble of dealing with Obara’s putdowns, Nym’s advances and Tyene’s veiled threats, but that wasn’t who he wanted to be anymore. He couldn’t afford to throw his reputation away again for love. Or lust. _Or whatever this was with Brienne_.

She easily fell into step with him as soon as they were both decent enough to leave the safety of her room, hands silently brushing until he felt compelled to weave his fingers through hers and let Brienne lead him through the bowels of the building. Her abandoned flowers were retrieved on the way, looking no worse for wear than the recipient, bitten and bruised and blushing like he’d been whispering in her ear this whole time. But there was nothing really left to say.

“I’ll call you when I land,” he promised, one hand on the surreptitiously unlocked stage door, Brienne spluttering out an non-committal answer when he’d asked where she’d gotten the key from, a dangerously spiralling thought winding through his mind that she had done this before. “And I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Monday,” she repeated tentatively, shuffling forward until she was close enough to press her lips to his cheek, Jaime’s hand slipping through the mussed tangle of her hair to hold her against him for a little while longer. “Now get out of here, you’re going to miss your flight.”

"Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me…”

He took her lips before she could finish her protest, the tension slipping out of her muscles like melting snow caught in the heat of the sun, leaving them both desperately fighting to draw breath. “I’ll call you,” Jaime panted, pulling away as a horn pierced the air, his arm dropping from around her waist and immediately missing having her so close.

“You don’t have to do that, just…just...good luck.”

“I do and I will.”

But he never did.

**Author's Note:**

> If you do have time, please feel free to leave a comment. I'll try and update at least twice a week and I'm expecting this to have about ten chapters in total.
> 
> Thanks for reading :)


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